The Glory of Manticore
by restive nature
Summary: DA X-men x-over. Once again Max is on the run, but this time a safe haven awaits, at Xavier's School.
1. Chapter One

The Glory of Manticore

Restive Nature

Disclaimer- I in no way, shape or form own the characters of Dark Angel or X-Men or anything related to them. I simply like to play with them for a short while.

A/N- This is a slightly AU story. It takes place more in Max's timeline, with the pulse occurring. It begins after the episode 'Blah Blah, Woof Woof" It doesn't affect the X-men much, as Professor Xavier is affluent enough to afford the best in life. It also takes place after the first X-men movie, but as I haven't seen the second one, I'll leave that stuff alone.

Chapter One

Charles rolled himself into the dining room. The teachers of his school for gifted youngsters talked quietly among themselves. He moved his wheelchair to the head of the table. As he positioned himself, the housekeeper moved forward to place his breakfast in front of him. The teachers grew silent, as his plate remained untouched. With quiet presence, he made his announcement.

"We are going to have a new arrival soon," he said to the room in general. The adults waited expectantly. "She is not going to be a student. An acquaintance of mine in Seattle has asked if we could provide shelter for her until the situation she is in cools done somewhat."

"What kind of situation are we talking about here, Professor?" Scott Summers asked, his mirrored glasses revealing nothing. But the professor was adept at reading more than posture and facial movements. He sensed Scott's unspoken concerns immediately.

"She is not a mutant in the sense of our populace," he replied. "Max Gueverra is her name. She was part of a covert operation with the government about ten years ago. She is considered AWOL and the people in charge of the operation want her back because of the information she carries with her. At least, that is my understanding of the situation." Charles knew that Logan Cale hadn't exactly told him the entire truth, but it was close enough for now. Charles could only respect Max's need for privacy. At least Logan had given him the bare bones so that Charles knew what he was getting himself into before agreeing.

"But Jean was not to be deterred. "So, you mean to say that we could be going up against the government for this girl?"

"Not a girl," Charles corrected her, neatly sidestepping the concern. "She's an adult. And she won't be interfering in the running of the school. All we are doing is providing a room to sleep in for a few weeks to months."

"But Jean has a valid point," Scott leaned forward to drive his point home. His smooth voice lowered somewhat. "Given our propensity for championing the underdog, aren't we placing ourselves in a precarious position?"

"From my understanding, Max is very adept at avoiding situations which would lead to the problems of which you are referring." Charles cocked his head minutely as he sensed a familiar presence outside the room. He'd been expecting this for a little while now.

"Then why does she need to come here?" Storm asked finally. She had set her napkin down beside her plate. Charles sighed; it looked as if his team was going to be belligerent about this.

"Mr. Cale also mentioned that she is looking for her family," Charles commented. To the average onlooker, he appeared calm, dignified, unruffled, but he was aware of every nuance in the room.

"Oh," was all Scoot could say. They all knew that Scott had been searching for his younger sibling for years. Being split up in foster homes after the death of their parents had been difficult. His brother had been adopted almost immediately, but Scott, recuperating from brain damage from the accident, had been made to wait. And before a match could be made, his power had come to light, so to speak. No one wanted a freak for a son. Charles had taken him from that damned world and had given him a purpose in life. Now Scott was his staunchest supporter, if Charles' ideas meshed with Scott's team playing rules.

"Maybe you should give the kid a break," an old, familiar voice came from the doorway. The companion's jumped up to greet the long missing Wolverine. He even grudgingly accepted quick hugs from Jean and Storm. Scott hung back, anger stiffening his posture. Seven months prior, Logan had gone to revisit his murky past, taking Scott's motorcycle in the process

"Well, well," he forced a chuckle. "The prodigal son returns unscathed."

"Did you really expect anything less?" Logan growled softly, his eyebrow raised menacingly.

Charles moved his wheelchair towards them. "Boys," he breathed the word softly. To his relief, both men backed off. Scott turned his attention towards his girlfriend, Jean. After glaring daggers at Scott's back, Logan watched Jean wistfully. Storm tactfully removed herself from the room. Charles cleared his throat. "Logan, we're glad to have you back. Perhaps after classes are done, you could drop by my study and regale me with your adventures."

"Not much to tell," he muttered, still mesmerized by the redhead. "I just came back to see how Rogue is doing."

"She was worried about you too." The professor's clarity of thought and mind-reading ability always hit Logan upside the head, even though he was intellectually aware of Xavier's powers. His thoughts drifted over the last few months, wondering how much he could edit out of his journey without the professor knowing. _'Probably none,'_ he decided grimly, grinning ruefully. It was then that he realized Jean was speaking.

"…can we expect this new arrival?"

"Probably in the next week or so," Charles replied. "Logan…Cale informed me that she would be driving. So, if she left today, yes, I'd say about a week." He turned to their Logan. "Had you heard out entire conversation this morning?"

"Just that we're getting a kid who's not a mutant, but needs some sort of safe house," he snorted, his opinion on the matter blatantly obvious.

"Her name is Max and if you stick around, keep an eye out for her," Charles instructed, With a quick nod to the group in general, he wheeled himself off to his first class of the day. He could just imagine the fireworks about to occur between Scott and Logan.

Had he stayed in the dining room, he would have been pleasantly surprised. Jean managed to keep the hostility level at a minimum. After a few stinging barbs were exchanged, Jean simply placed herself between the two men and demanded that Logan apologize to Scott for taking the motorcycle again. Eyeing the telekinetic, he shrugged and murmured a half-hearted apology. In the nature it was given, Scott returned the shrug with one of his own and a telling snort. His thought was so loud that Jean had to cover a smile. _'Nothing ever changes. He's still a jerk.'_ The grandfather clock in the hallway chimed and it reminded Jean and Scott of their teaching responsibilities. They left quietly as Logan allowed the housekeeper to fuss minimally over him. Already he was making plans to leave again.

The day passed slowly, as Logan waited impatiently to talk to Rogue. He had accepted the responsibility of watching out for her. He was sure that she understood the necessity of his searching out his past. He wanted to check in on her and let her know that he hadn't forgotten her. Finally hearing the last bell ring, he made his way to the lounging area, sure that she would end up there. Before he made it that far though, he felt a familiar presence raised the hairs on the back of his neck. _'Good ol' professor,'_ he thought wryly. He veered towards Charles' study, remembering the first time he had burst in on the man.

"Ah, Logan," Charles smiled as Logan moved into the room stealthily. "So good of you to come. Would you like some tea?"

"Nah, never drink the stuff," he joked, prowling around the room, barely glancing at the numerous volumes lying around. Logan got the impression that this was deliberate, for the professors mental prowess came with an obsession for order.

"Something else then?"

"No, thank you," Logan finally caught the professors nod towards the chairs. Sighing, he collapsed into the chair nearest to him, which was also the furthest from Charles.

"I take it you did not find the information you were looking for?" Charles asked gently, leaning forward, his hands clasped. _'He's really got the body language down pat,'_ Logan thought. He decided to make it easy on himself, realizing that the professor was being polite. It was terribly rude to go traipsing through someone else's thoughts and memories without their permission.

"No," Logan's answer was short and gruff. Looking to the window, he searched for quick words that would mask his disappointment and frustration. "As we discussed, the military compound was burnt almost entirely to the ground. When I got there, it was buried in about three feet of snow. I went over it with a fine tooth comb, but there was nothing there. And I couldn't get a sense of the place at first. It was almost as if someone had already been there and took everything they could. I mean, you would expect that if you were cleaning up after a fire, you would tear everything down and clear away the debris. But the building was gutted and then left.

"Did you have any problem getting to the building?" Charles wondered.

"There was a perimeter fence, but it wasn't guarded and it wasn't wired, either."

"So it was definitely a government building then?"

"I'd say so," Logan began to muse aloud, all the things he had surmised in his time in Canada. "If the place belonged to a civilian, it would make sense that they would rebuild, or at least tear down the place. But, the government has a lot of privately funded outfits. If they were doing what I think they were, after the fire, they may have lost any research gathered and then lost their funding. Or they could have found another place and moved their base away from the area. A fire that size would garner a fair amount of attention."

"You said that you think someone else had already been over the grounds?" Charles weighed what Logan theorized and added his own opinion. "If that were the case, then your second theory may have merit. Indeed, if the government scientists were experimenting on mutants it would necessitate secrecy. I would be inclined to think that the government swooped in, took any and all evidence and relocated it. Perhaps they set the fire, to discourage investigation of their activity. Unfortunately, we don't know at this point if they continued experimenting or not"

"That's probably the case," Logan realized as the thoughts flowed between them. It was reassuring to have someone who understood his frustration and was willing to believe Logan's theories, rather than scoffing outright. As Logan could imagine some of the members of this group doing. The two men talked over the news and ideas. Charles offered his continuing help and support. Finally, there came a timid knock at the door. Logan's young friend Rogue poked her head through the opening. Charles beckoned her in.


	2. Chapter Two

The Glory Of Manticore

Restive Nature

Chapter Two

"Jean said that I should come see you," Rogue murmured, peeking her head around the corner of the study door. She then noticed the dark, moody presence in the corner seat. "Logan!"

"Hey kid," he smiled a lopsided grin, amused at her exuberance.

"When did you get back?" she demanded, her excitement exhibited in the sudden deepening of her Southern drawl. Nervously, her hands went to the dog tags still secure around her neck.

"I just got in this morning," he replied gruffly, eyeing his old tags. They were the oldest, that he could remember, of all his external possessions. "Classes had just started. I've been waitin' on you all day, kid." Charles hid a smile as Rogue shifted nervously from foot to foot. The affection between these two was deeper than that even of siblings.

"Oh," Rogue smiled as well. Her heart lifted when she realized that he had taken her into consideration. With some pain, she began to remove the dog tags, but his sudden movement stilled her. He stood before her and stilled her hand.

"I don't need those back yet," he said quietly. Rogue was obviously confused. "The professor and I are trying to think up a few new leads on my past. So I'll be here for a few days, before I take off again."

"That's good," Rogue breathed a sigh of relief, concentrating on the first part of his speech. She wouldn't think about his leaving until it actually occurred. She felt slightly giddy, her hero-worship for this man was almost overwhelming her. It wasn't as if she lacked for male companionship. But she and Logan shared a bond, forged through many unbelievable events. "Did you want to get some dinner?" she invited softly. As if on cue, his stomach growled. Everyone chuckled, relaxing, as they hadn't really been able to before.

"I think that's a good idea all around," Charles began to move around from the desk, towards the door. Logan held the door open for them as Rogue launched into a description of the events transpiring each week since Logan had left. _'Leave it to a teenager to make history class sound like the social event of the year.' _ Logan glanced down at the professor; sure when he saw the man struggling to maintain his dignified mien, that he's caught Logan's bemused thought. Rogue sensed that she'd lost her captive audience.

"What?" she asked, seriously concerned for her friends. Her eyes were pained as she considered them with such determination. Both men broke out laughing. "What?" she demanded again.

"Nothing, nothing," Charles laughed. "Perhaps you'll understand when you're older."

"You're laughin' at me?" she gasped, her accent even more highly pronounced in her emotional state. Logan struggled to contain himself. The opportunity to really enjoy a good belly laugh was rare.

"Nah," he gently nudged her covered shoulder. "We're just enjoying the fact that you, uh… have a healthy social life in the middle of all this…um, scholastic environment." Logan realized belatedly that when he had first met Rogue, runaway that she was, she had been forced to grow up fast. And while she'd never lose that little bit of haunted look she'd acquired from that time, she was better. Now, in the relaxed surrounding, with other kids her age and culture, she could be the girl she should have been. At least to some extent. Her mutant gift was no gift at all. The sobering memory of Rogue's lifeless face still haunted Logan. He had barely been able to save her, almost dying himself. He shook himself out of the moment and the three continued on to dinner.

There was a general consensus between adults and students that this evening be lighthearted. The kids gladly took any opportunity to shed the responsibilities of their studies. Although Logan still considered himself an outsider, he didn't show the disdain he had once carried for this group. He realized as the evening wore on that through working with these people to save Rogue, and ultimately the world, he had formed a bond of sorts with them.

All too soon, Jean and the professor were herding students up to their rooms in the dorms. Their curfew was nearing. Logan received stares, pats on the shoulder, and even a hug from the Asian girl, Jubilee. Logan felt a yawn of his own coming on and tried to smother it with his hand. Storm leaned forward and motioned for him to follow the students up the stairs.

"We kept your room for you," she smiled, speaking softly. "Perhaps the professor had an inkling about your return."

"I just wanted to make sure Rogue was doing okay," he mumbled, not comfortable with the way these people tried to claim him. Storm was as determined as ever to get him involved in their cause. It was enough for Logan to simply exist. He didn't want attention; all he wanted was his past. And as time went on, he wasn't so sure that knowing would be the end of his torment. With a distracted 'good evening' to the room in general, he mounted the stairs. He headed to his room, wondering if there were still pajamas or even sweats in the armoire. To his mild surprise, someone had seen fit to stock it with some new clothes. He rummaged through the packages until he came across a cotton pajama set. He pulled the bottoms out, leaving the shirt behind with a sneer. It was a warm night that didn't call for more than the minimal amount of clothing. He smiled to himself as he envisioned Jean shopping for him. His brain reminded him sharply that it could have been one of the others, but his heart was determined on its course.

Logan awoke a smile on his face. Whatever his dreams had been, they must have been pleasant and not of the nightmare quality that they had been lately. Again. They had been especially bad after visiting the compound. He had wondered about keeping that from the professor. But they had been unable to help him the last time and he had ended up shish kabobing Rogue. Sighing, he threw back the covers and swung his feet out to the floor. He padded to the adjoining bathroom and splashed water on his face. He dried himself off, staring at himself in the mirror. Sometimes he got flashes when at himself so intently, studying who he was. But today there was nothing. Shrugging off the failed attempt to recover himself, he busied himself picking out clothes. Whoever had picked them out knew his tastes well. They were precisely what he would have chosen. He decided that it had to have been Jean. Only women were that considerate, and she did have some mind reading ability.

With his good mood restored, he left his room to make his way down to the dining hall. Once there, he found what he assumed to be everyone in various stages of their meals. Rogue was just finishing, swallowing the last of her juice. When she saw him, her eyes lit up and she hurriedly joined him by the door. "You found your clothes," she smiled, holding the plate and glass before her, as if protection from any disapproval.

"You knew about this?" he asked, gesturing to his outfit. She nodded happily.

"I figured you might still be short on clothing," she explained quickly. "What with your truck blowin' up and then takin' off and all."

"Well," he muttered swallowing his disappointment that Jean hadn't been as concerned as he'd thought. "You did a good job kid. It's exactly what I would have picked."

"Well, if you recall, I do have somewhat firsthand knowledge of what you like. Having absorbed your personality and all."

They smiled at each other, their bond once again renewed. Rogue moved to put her plate away. Logan found an empty seat near Storm. He ate quietly, trying not to garner attention. The group respected his silent request. Accustomed to the daily routine, they all ate quickly. Then they moved off to their respective classes. Charles made a point of inviting Logan to spend the day relaxing. And with no other distraction in sight, Logan resigned himself to just that.


	3. Chapter Three

The Glory Of Manticore

Restive Nature

Chapter Three

When midmorning rolled around, Logan had decided to sit in the lounge, perusing one of the many novels that were in the bookcase. Barely into the first chapter, he heard the low rumble of a motorcycle. _'One-eye must be checkin' his bike over, making sure I didn't hurt the damn thing.'_ As the roar subsided, he decided he was right and pulled his attention back to the book. He had read just a few lines when he heard a knock at the front door. Sighing, he threw the book down and rose to answer the summons. He opened the door to the foyer and heard another impatient rapping at the door. He yanked it open, easily losing what little patience he did have. He opened his mouth to blister the newcomer, but was stopped short by the lithe beauty before him.

"About time," she barked, pushing her yellow sunglasses atop her head. Logan gaped at the young woman, nearly the same height as he. "Well, are you going to let me in? I am expected, aren't I?"

"That would depend on who you are," Logan finally managed. He stepped back and swung his hand out to gesture her inside. He inhaled slightly and his eyes widened. He could have sworn that he recognized her scent. But whatever had prompted that feeling was gone the moment her perfume entered the mix.

"Max Gueverra," she supplied, careful in her movements. She took a few steps, the turned and fixed him with a hard stare. "So, does my ass pass inspection, or should I turn around again?" Logan's eyes jumped guiltily to her face. For the first time in memory, Logan could feel himself blushing. He wasn't sure whether to be amused or offended. Then he recognized the name and puzzlement was added to the mix.

"We weren't expecting you for another four or five days at least," he grumbled. She shrugged, disinterested in his curiosity.

"I was already on the move when I contacted my friend," she explained. "He gave me directions here. So who do I need to talk to about this dealio?"

"What?"

"You know, the man in charge… the guy who runs this show?"

"Oh, you mean the professor," he nodded towards the study. "He's teaching class right now."

"In that case," she murmured as she moved further into the house. She turned to him again. "Do you have anything to eat? I drove pretty much nonstop to get here."

"That must have been your vehicle I heard a few minutes ago," Logan realized. "What do you drive?" he asked politely.

"Black Ninja 3000," she replied shortly.

"I was right," Logan smirked. At her raised eyebrow, he said further, "I thought I heard a motorcycle."

"Oh, you ride?" she shrugged her denim coat off and threw it on the back of one of the lounge chairs. He nodded, grinning at the thought of showing her Scott's bike. It was a little powerful for a woman, but he thought she might appreciate it if he offered to take her on a ride. She waited a moment while he appeared lost in thought. "So…food?" she prompted again. He started and smirked at her again. She shook her head in disgust He moved down a hallway and she decided to follow on the off chance that he actually was helping her out. After a few turns, he opened the door to the kitchen, surprising the housekeeper.

"Hey, our guest arrived," he explained. "She's a little hungry."

The woman smiled at Max and introduced herself. She pointed to the refrigerator and told her to help herself. Max opened the refrigerator door and began removing sandwich fixings. She stepped adroitly around Logan, her arms full. She nudged the door shut with her foot. Ignoring both Logan and the housekeeper, she built a large sandwich. The food was put away and the counter cleaned before Logan could think of anything to say. Picking up the sandwich, she moved to the table and sat. Logan shook his head, wondering if this Max was a bigger loner than he was.

"I'll be back that way," he muttered to no one in general, gesturing towards the lounge. He left the kitchen, wondering if he should interrupt Charles' class to let him know that the girl was here. He decided to wait. Charles was probably already aware and she certainly wasn't going anywhere. After settling down with his book, he found himself reading the same lines over and over. The little spitfire was capturing his thoughts and he wondered about her. The professor said she was AWOL. He figured that she had to be at least twenty-five, maybe older. She had a mature look about her that could have been the result of military training. He looked up from his book to see her making her way back to the lounge.

"Is it possible for me to get the lay of the place?" she asked swiftly.

"What?" Logan mumbled, increasingly aware that most of their conversation to this point had been her making demands.

"A tour?" she clarified, sighing and rolling her eyes. Logan's ire began to rise as her manner started to grate on his nerves. "Can I get a tour of this place?"

"Might be better to wait for the professor," he replied, studiously turning his attention back to his book. He was fully aware of her when she shrugged and turned away from him.

"I'll just figure it out on my own," she called as she moved towards the stairs.

"Good luck," he called back. "I'll come find you when it's time for supper."

"Whatever!" she called back. "I'll see you for lunch."

She disappeared up the stairs. Logan set his book down and thought about going after her. This place was really easy to get lost in your first time. He'd had the guided tour and still now had to stop and think about his route. Then he remembered her abrupt manner and decided he wasn't responsible for her. The professor could deal with her.

Forty-five minutes later, he felt a warm gust of breath on his neck. He jumped slightly, startled. He mentally berated himself that he hadn't heard any footsteps. He turned to see Max, leaning over the back of the couch. "Cool jet," she smiled. "You fly?"

"Nah," he shook his head. "That's Scott's department." Then he realized the impact of her words. "How'd you find the jet?"

"I told you I was going to look around," she snorted, standing up straight and stretching. "The only room I wasn't able to get into was the one with the corneal encryption."

"How the hell did you figure that out?" he demanded. She smiled at him and some of his earlier anger towards her dissipated.

"You could say that code breaking was a specialty of mine," she chuckled.

"I keep forgetting that Charles said you were with the government," Logan reminded himself. He turned his attention to her in time to catch the strange look on her face. "Which branch were you with?"

"Army," she replied shortly.

"How long were you in?"

"About eleven years." That really surprised Logan. He rapidly readjusted his guess on her age. His next question was obvious to him.

"How long have you been AWOL?" he asked, carefully watching her face and reaction.

"We've been AWOL, as you put it, for just over ten years," Max stressed the term with obvious disdain. It only further served to confuse Logan.

"Just how old are you?" he demanded. She smiled.


	4. Chapter Four

The Glory Of Manticore

Restive Nature

AN-Thank you to those who reviewed. I'd like to point out again, that this story takes place during Season One of Dark Angel. I guess the background on Max would be that this takes place as kind of an AU "Blah Blah, Woof Woof" in which Max did leave town with Zack. For the purposes of this story, they seperated shortly after leaving, Logan Cale did not require surgery and hopefully Max will keep up her snarky attitude, because it was so much more enjoyable than mopey Max of second season.

Chapter Four

"I'm twenty," she scoffed, rolling her eyes. Logan stared at her, figuring that she was pulling his leg. He didn't press further, as he was a little sensitive on the matter of his age, among other things. Just then, Scott and Jean strolled by, their respective classes having been dismissed

"Hello Logan," Jean greeted her teammate, including Max with her smile.

"Well, that can be confusing," Max looked at Logan as well. "You never did introduce yourself."

"You asked for the professor, not me," Logan shrugged. "What's the point?"

"The professor should be done shortly," Scott directed his words to Max. "I'll just tell him you're here, Miss…?"

"Gueverra," Max supplied. "Max Gueverra."

"Oh," Jean exclaimed. "We weren't expecting you for almost a week."

"That's what I heard," Max grinned. "I was already on the move when Logan, my Logan that is, told me where to head."

"Well then," Scott slipped into the role of host rather well. "I'm Scott Summers, this is Jean Grey and you've met Logan. Maybe to save on confusion, we'll just all call him Wolverine."

"So where'd you come up with a nickname like that?" Max demanded lightly of Logan. He shrugged, not wanting to go into the details of his long-term amnesia.

"About the same place everyone else gets nicknames," he growled. "Right Cyclops?"

Max turned to Scott. "I take it most of you have nicknames?"

"For the most part," he smiled shyly. "The kids kind of gave us these names. It's cooler calling me that instead of Mr. Summers."

"Did you ever get tagged with a nickname," Jean asked congenially. They were all startled when Max burst out laughing.

"Not really," she gasped. She watched their reactions carefully, thinking of the barcode like tattoo at the base of her neck. She shook her head, dismissing their puzzlement. "It's Max. Always has been, always will be."

Logan had the strange impression that she was somehow testing them. Whatever she garnered from their reactions to her words, she seemed content. Jean motioned towards Charles' study and the group moved in that direction. Scott knocked quickly on the door, waiting only a moment before opening it.

"We have company," he announced. He stood back and motioned the group in. Students milled around for a moment, gathering their bags and papers before exiting the room. "Professor, allow me to introduce Max, the young lady we were expecting."

"You must have driven straight through to make it here by now," Charles smiled at her, putting her a little more at ease. "Either that or you were already on your way when your friend made arrangements for you."

"The second," she assured him, smiling back.

"Have you just arrived?" he asked, testing her in his own way. He'd been aware the moment she'd entered the vicinity of the school.

"No, I've been here for a while. Logan was kind enough to show me the kitchen so I could get a bite to eat. Then a quick tour and now I'm meeting you," she related. Logan was surprised that she covered for him. She hadn't exactly lied, but she didn't rat him out. "You've really made the most out of the space you have. Logan tells me that Scott pilots that jet you've got tucked away." She turned to Scott with a grin.

"I'm surprised that Logan took you down there," Scott grimaced. Charles watched with a thoughtful eye. He had sensed more of what was going on than either Logan or Max had related and knew perfectly well that she'd explored on her own. The pair had more in common than they knew yet and he wondered how that would play out.

"Oh, I can be pretty persuasive," Max chuckled, watching Logan squirm slightly. "I just prefer to be able to find my way out of tight spots. It helps to know the lay of the land." Unfortunately, that little comment served only to put some of them on guard.

"We can hardly fault that logic now, can we?" the professor decided, mostly addressing Jean and Scott. The pair was apprehensive about a person they knew next to nothing about discovering the secrets they housed. But Charles had no qualms about it. While he sensed that Max had her share of secrets, none would intrude on their mission. His eyes glazed over momentarily, and his office door opened once more. A stunning African American woman with shockingly white hair entered. "Ah, here you are, Storm." He made the introductions between the two women.

"Did Logan show you to your room?" Jean asked of Max. Logan was already making excuses.

"I didn't know where you wanted her," he told Jean. She nodded.

"I forgot to mention it," she apologized in general. "We just weren't expecting you yet."

"I kind of got that," Max scolded gently. "Don't worry, I don't need much room. And I didn't bring a lot with me. I'll have to do some shopping soon. Maybe even right now. That way I'm not interrupting your school day any more than I already have."

"Please feel free to come and go," Charles offered. "Logan doesn't teach any of the classes as yet. Perhaps he could continue as your guide and take you into town today."

Both of them offered protests immediately. One look from the professor silenced Logan. "I don't really need a babysitter, " Max told them. "I can take care of myself. If the people after me come sniffing around here, I don't want to have to worry about saving anyone else. It might be better if I don't associate with you. Save you all a lot of trouble."

"Look kid," Logan growled, "I don't need any kind of that crap. Whatever your training, I could kick your ass and make you wipe up after. Care to try me?"

"Maybe instead of running off at the mouth," Max's eyes went dead, "you could straight up realize that there are some badasses out there gunning for me that I'd rather deal with and save you the aggravation. Nobody here is saying that you can't deal, Wolverine," she sneered his name. "But these are the type of people that you don't want hunting you. Because there's enough of them that they just don't quit."

"All right," he backed off a little. "But I can handle anything they want to dish out."

"Whoa up on the testosterone," Max sighed. "Have you ever thought that you might want to bone up on the enemy before blithely deciding that you've got their numbers?"

"Wolverine has very little to fear in the way of injuries," Charles interjected cryptically. "Please believe me when I assure you that all of the people here can take care of themselves. That is part of what we're teaching our students."

"All right," Max relented. "It's your ass on the line if you want to follow me around."

At that moment, the phone on Charles' desk rang. Turning away with it, he spoke quietly, then held the phone out to Max. "It's your Logan."

"What's up?" she asked merrily as soon as she had the receiver.

"Just wanted to see if you made it okay," came the reply.

"Yeah, sector police in the area were distracted from their route," she laughed.

"I imagine you had something to do with that," Logan Cale chuckled. "Could you do me a favor while you're still in that area?"

"What is it?" she asked warily. Logan launched into the information he needed. She dutifully wrote down the addresses that she would need to visit. "That it?"

"It is kind of important Max," Logan sighed. "Relay that back to me as soon as possible so I   
can-!"

"Yeah, I've got it," Max grunted. She listened to his humanitarian slant on the world for a moment before wiggling her eyebrows playfully. "I know, I know! Blah blah, woof woof! Okay, I've got to go now. Uh huh. Yep. Bye bye. Gotta bounce!" With that she slammed the phone down. "Man he never shuts up!" Jean tried to hide a smile. Max glanced at the paper in her hand. "I'm here an hour and already he wants me to get him info."

"What does he do?" Storm asked politely.

"He's a cyber-journalist," Max replied, folding the paper and tucking it into her jeans pocket "He reports on the dealings of important people, revealing scandals and the like. He's actually pretty good at ferreting out big things."

"What kind of scandals?" Scott asked casually, but inside his mind was whirling with the possible implications that Logan Cale had possibly sent her here to investigate them.

"You know the governor of the state of Washington?" Max asked.

"Not personally, no," Scott shook his head. Then he recalled something he'd read recently.

"Wasn't he just indited on fraud charges?" Charles was a step ahead of him.

"Logan caught wind of the scheme and exposed the whole operation."

"An admirable job," Scott frowned. "And dangerous, I would assume."

"Yes, so dangerous," Max agreed with a lilt in her voce. "If he couldn't hole up in his penthouse, the masses of downtrodden might overwhelm him."

"And let me guess, you're his intelligence gatherer?" Wolverine snorted.

"That's what I was bred for," Max quipped cryptically. "Like I said though, gotta bounce."

"Maybe I'd better come along and keep you out of trouble," Wolverine worried, his brow drawn together. Max shrugged indifferently and then waved genially to the rest of the company. She led him out to the driveway, where her motorcycle was parked. Logan took a moment to admire its sleek lines. He was about to suggest that they take a different vehicle when Max slung her leg over it and motioned for him to climb on. "If I'm going with you, then you'd better let me drive."

"Nobody drives my baby but me," Max snapped, pulling her glasses down over her eyes. "You've got about five seconds to decide what you're doing." She started the motor, counting down from five as she did. Logan thought quickly about the reprimand he'd receive from Charles and decided it wasn't worth the argument. He slung his leg over the set behind her and barely settled in before she roared off. She slowed momentarily at the end of the drive as the gates opened for them, then sped up again and headed into town.


	5. Chapter Five

The Glory Of Manticore

Restive Nature

Chapter Five

"Where's this information at that your friend needs?" Logan yelled in her ear over the sound of the engine.

"There's an office building downtown that has the file we need," she yelled back, turning her head slightly. He liked the way she kept her eyes on the road. He helped her along, giving her the occasional direction once she'd repeated the address to him. All too soon, they pulled along side other vehicles in the parking lot.

"How do you propose to get in?" he asked, clambering off the bike as she pushed the kickstand down. She smiled at him and opened up her backpack. She reached in and pulled out a manilla envelope and hat. She copied the address from the sheet of paper onto the envelope. She placed her hat on her head and hurried into the building. Logan decided to follow. _'Just back-up in case she needs it.'_ He told himself. It wouldn't be seemly to allow her to get into hot water on her first day here. He saw her march up to the administration desk.

"Hi, where can I find David Lancaster's office?" she asked politely. The receptionist pointed at the elevator and said a few words that Logan couldn't make out. He moved swiftly to follow her, catching the elevator just before the doors closed. "Couldn't bear to see me go?" she mocked him.

"Seems I'm playing bodyguard for the day," he parried. She rolled her eyes.

"Save me from overprotective males," she grumbled in a soft voice. They reached the floor she'd indicated and exited carefully. Max checked the door leading to the fire escape. Logan eyed her warily as she first opened the door, looked up the stairs, then shut it again. She turned and headed down the hallway at a brisk clip. He was only mildly surprised that the exit alarm didn't go off. Max came to the door marking Lancaster's office. She walked in as if she owned the world. He caught up, but didn't go in after her. He'd wait to see if he needed to haul her chestnuts out of the fire. "Jam Pony messenger," he heard her announce. "I have a priority package for David Lancaster. Is he in?"

"I'm afraid Mr. Lancaster has left for the day," the secretary replied. "I can take that though."

"I'm sorry ma'am," Max ad-libbed. "It's our company policy that all priority packages must be signed for by the recipient only. Will Mr. Lancaster be in tomorrow?" The secretary indicated that she would. "Then I'll leave you a delivery notification slip and come back tomorrow."

"This is a Seattle address," the secretary noticed.

"That's our main office," Max explained. "The phone number will connect you to the service office in this area. But I'll come by tomorrow and get this to Mr. Lancaster."

"Oh, thank you very much," the secretary's suspicions were quickly put to rest. Max reappeared before Logan. He eyed her warily, impressed by how quick she was on her feet.

"Let's go," she said quietly. "I need to pick up a few things."

"Is that a real package, or just a fake?" he asked of her when they entered the elevator. She handed it to him with a shrug. He opened it and pulled out a copy of the New York Times. He grinned. "What if he was there?"

"Hey, it's my job to deliver the package, not make sense out of them," she retorted. "You know, my coworkers and I deliver a lot of strange things to people. We've learned not to question it."

"You mean you actually work for a delivery company?" he scoffed.

"I don't wear this hat for its killer fashion statement, you know," she laughed. They reached the ground floor and exited the building. Max stuffed the package, her hat and her backpack into the sidesaddle. She climbed on and waited for Logan.

"Don't you wear a helmet?"

"Don't you?"

"Well, you were in such a hurry, I didn't have time to grab one," Logan decided.

"I've never had an accident on this thing," Max informed him. She made sure he was settled before heading out of the parking lot. "Where can I find some decent clothes around this town?"

They spent the rest of the day wandering around town. Logan noticed that Max wore a quiet air of readiness about her. Every once in a while, he caught her looking around and listening, as if waiting for something. She wasn't exactly nervous, just on guard. And he did notice as well that she avoided the sheriff's officers like the plague. But he couldn't fault her. He was just as wary. He directed her to the nearest mall, following after her reluctantly. He shared the general male outlook on shopping with females. To his surprise, Max shopped smartly, and swiftly. In a very short time, she'd made her purchases and they were leaving the mall.

"Buy you a cup of coffee?" she asked, nodding towards the café on the corner. He nodded. He couldn't think what else they could do to kill time. After ordering, they snagged an outdoor table. She glanced around, taking in the scenery. "Boy, it's amazing that there are places like this, after the pulse."

Logan nodded. He had been just as amazed at the time, when the terrorist group had attacked the States. But since then, he'd gone through more amazing situations and rarely gave it thought anymore. "I think the smaller towns survived better than the bigger ones. Much more laid back about things. They aren't about rushing and the almighty dollar." She nodded.

"So, tell me about your friends," she suggested.

"What's to tell?" Logan shrugged. "They're a bunch of teachers."

"Okay," Max drawled as she stiffened in her seat. She could tell that there was more to the story. "So what exactly do you do?" She had been mentally going over everything she could remember about the place Eyes Only had directed her to. While it wouldn't normally register on her scale, there'd been quite a lot on the news recently about the mutant threat. It was just another reason to keep a low profile, lest someone mistake her for one.

"I travel," he replied casually.

"How'd you end up at Xavier's?" she asked pointedly. He didn't seem inclined to answer, so she tried a different tact. "He said earlier that you have little to fear about injuries. What's that about?"

"What's with all the questions?" Logan growled. She leaned forward, arms on the table, staring at him intently.

"I'm sure you realize by now that I am not dumb," she smiled coldly. "I do pay attention to the news. Probably not too many mutants with a name like Xavier who run a school for gifted children, are there?" She leaned back. "But if you don't want to talk about it, that's fine." Logan watched her, gauging her possible reaction.

"What do you think about mutants?" he asked finally.

"Couldn't care either way," she replied flippantly, shrugging one shoulder. "They're born, probably had no say in how their lives would turn out. Deserve a fair chance, just like anybody else."

"You don't think they're dangerous?" he dug a little further.

"Hardly," she scoffed. "Sure, I bet some of them are powerful," she stressed the word. "But being dangerous is a choice you make. Just like being good or evil. So, no, I wouldn't turn and run in the other direction were I to knowingly encounter one." Logan smiled at that. "You however, I'm still on the fence about." His face fell a little and she grinned saucily at him. "So, are you gonna own up to it now." He sighed.

"Mutants, yeah," he grimaced. "Let's see, Scott, also known as Cyclops, shoots beams from his eyes. Storm can control the weather. Jean is telekinetic with some psychic ability. The professor is completely mental."

"Oh, that's a polite way of putting it," Max giggled. "What about you?"

"I heal fast," he hedged, unsure about revealing his more noticeable mutation.

"So do I," Max interjected. "Does that qualify me as a mutant?"

"Depends on what you mean by fast," Logan mused. He took a sip of coffee. His mind moved to a new topic, not wanting to allow her a chance to delve too deeply into his life. "You know, earlier, when I asked how long you were AWOL, you said we. How many went over the wall?"

"Twelve of us," she answered shortly. Logan could see the pain etched on her face, though she tried to hide it. "There's fewer of us left. Brin went back," she mused, then seemed startled that she'd said it out loud.

"If you left willingly, how come this… Brin went back?"

"She was ill," Max shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant about it. "Dying in fact. It was her choice. We couldn't argue with that."

"You keep saying we?" Logan wasn't exactly confused, but he was interested.

"My brother, Zack and I," Max explained.

"Your brother, huh?" Logan mulled that over. "Is he older than you?"

"Um yeah, I guess so," Max wrinkled her brow. This line of questioning was getting too personal for her taste. "We're not blood relatives. We're…"

"Adopted?" She didn't answer. "What happened?"

"My mother gave me up at birth," she whispered.

"Ouch," Logan replied gently. "I'm sorry. Didn't mean to be nosy."

"Don't worry, I've had plenty of time to deal with it," Max waved her hand airily, hoping now that he'd back off the topic. She grinned. "So what about your family?"

"Don't have one," now it was his turn for shortness.

"Not that it matters," Max muttered. "Sometimes they can be a real pain in the ass."

"You got that right," Logan smiled fondly. "Actually, I've learned over the years that blood does not a family make." He grimaced. "The idiots at the school have been trying to pound that into my head."

"How'd you get involved with them?" Max asked. "If you don't mind me being nosy now?"

"Storm and Cyclops saved me and Rogue from another mutant," Logan explained quickly. "I agreed to stay put and protect Rogue in exchange for some help dealing with some stuff in my past."

"Rogue's a mutant as well?" He nodded. "And did you get the help you needed?"

"The professor gave me some information, but it didn't pan out."

"Maybe my Logan could give you a hand," Max suggested carefully. It wouldn't do to offend him, now that she knew a little bit more about the situation she had dropped it on. "He's pretty good at cracking mysteries."

"Maybe," Logan shrugged, unwilling to commit to anything. "We should probably get back to the house. The others will be waiting," Logan decided, swallowing the last dredges of his coffee. He stood, waiting for Max to do the same.


	6. Chapter Six

The Glory Of Manticore

Restive Nature

Chapter Six

As they walked back to her motorcycle, Max asked about the general area. Logan tried to offer information, but really didn't know too much. "I could tell you all about sights to see and historical monuments in Canada," he jokingly offered.

"Is that where you're from?" she asked curiously.

"I guess," he shrugged. He wondered if maybe he should let her in on his main problem in life. After all, if he took up her offer of help, it would come out in the end. And he certainly didn't have to give her details. "About fifteen years ago, I was in an accident. Lost my memory. Never got it back."

"That's crappy," she frowned. "For you, I mean." He nodded. "So you have no idea where you're from then?"

"I think Alberta, maybe," he sighed. "I traveled around a lot. Always ended up back there," he shared. "That's where Storm and Cyke found us. Me and Rogue, that is."

"Did they just happen to be in the area?"

"No, they'd been tracking another mutant. He took off one night and they were suspicious enough to follow him. Lucky for us they did. My truck slammed into a tree. Rogue was trapped and my truck was on fire. They got us out. I figured I owed them something."

"I guess," Max arched an eyebrow, as if wondering why he'd feel that way. They climbed aboard her motorcycle. She revved the engine, cocking her head at a small angle.

"What's the problem?" Logan shouted.

"There's something off in the engine," she shouted back. "Can't you hear it?"

Logan listened for a moment and could detect a slightly high-pitched whine. "Scott teaches a mechanic class. Maybe they could take a look at it for you. Save you the cost of taking it to a professional."

"That's okay," Max declined. "If there's somewhere I can take a look at it, I'll do it myself."

"You're a mechanic too?" Logan shook his head in slight disbelief. "What else can you do?"

"You don't want to know," she laughed, pulling out of the parking lot."

They arrived home with time to spare before washing up for dinner. Rogue was looking for Logan. After quickly introducing Max to the younger girl, Logan left with the girl to reassure her that he wasn't planning on leaving any time soon. Jean swooped down on their guest before she could make a move towards the kitchen.

"I thought I'd show you your room if you had a minute," Jean informed her. She led Max up the stairs to the second floor. After a few quick turns, she stopped at a closed door. "Here we are," she murmured. She opened the door, flicked on the light and then moved into the room. Max followed, depositing her purchases on the bed. Jean motioned towards the en suite bathroom, apprizing her silently of its existence. "Scott and I are just down the hall, as is Storm. Logan is just next door."

"Does he snore?" Max demanded in a light tone. Jean fixed her with a surprised stare.

"Not that I know of," she replied faintly. Then she realized that the woman was teasing. "Actually, I should warn you, he does have slightly vocal nightmares."

"Don't we all?" Max quipped. "Won't bother me. I don't sleep much."

"Why not?" Jean asked, instantly concerned. She was having a difficult time keeping out of Max's mind. She was itching to poke around in the figurative sense. She could sense the numerous, but fairly well controlled emotions in the woman. And it didn't help that the medical doctor in her was clambering for answers as well. "If you have a problem sleeping, it might be caused by a medical condition. I'm a doctor…" she trailed off when she saw Max stiffen. "Please, don't feel obligated to share. I'm not trying to be pushy."

"It doesn't bother me," Max lied. She stared at Jean for a moment. "If I were to share something with you, would it fall under doctor patient confidentiality?"

"If it pertained to medical information, of course," Jean replied swiftly. "Is there something I should know?"

Max struggled for a moment before answering. She didn't have to be specific. And if she were going to be here for any length of time, it would be smart to have at least one person in the know. "I… suffer from… seizures."

"Epilepsy?"

"No, it's a rarer condition," Max informed her. "There is no real treatment at such time."

"What exactly happens?" Jean asked, seating herself on the bed.

"Well," Max sat as well, and rubbed her hands over her thighs. "Usually I feel a few warning tremors, I guess you could call them. Since I have no way of treating it, I basically suffer through the attacks with tryptophan. Eventually I level out and the seizure ends."

"Do you know what happens if you don't take the tryptophan?" Jean asked. She was fully aware of the effects of the naturally occurring homeopathic drug.

"I've heard that the seizures get worse in length and power until the body finally gives out and dies," Max looked out the window as she said this. Jean could feel pain and sorrow radiating from her.

"You're sure that's what happens?" she asked Max gently.

"It happened to my brother, Jack," Max whispered. "He died from seizures eleven years ago."

"Is it hereditary?"

"You could say that," Max barked a harsh laugh. She rubbed her hand over her face. "So, now you know."

Jean nodded, although she could sense that this small piece of information was only a tiny piece of the puzzle. "It's better that I do know," Jean agreed. "This way, I can be prepared for any eventuality. How is your supply of pills?"

"I have a couple bottles with me," Max informed her. "I didn't know where I would be able to get more."

"Okay," Jean smiled. "If you need more, let me know and I'll direct you to the nearest health food store. And I'll keep some on hand here in the infirmary, for emergencies."

"Thank you," Max said simply. That went easier than she'd suspected it would. "Well, I suppose I should put my stuff away."

"All right," Jean stood. "Do you remember how to get to the dining room?" At Max's nod, she exited the room, shutting the door softly behind her. Max stared out the window, lost in thoughts of her family. Closing her eyes, she let the horrible memories roll over her. Max wasn't given to self-pity, but thoughts of Jack led to Eva, and those two brought her closer than anything did. If only they'd had the courage before Jack's death to run. There may have been a way to save him, and in turn save Eva. But it was Jack's death that made them realize that there had to be more in the world than what they were taught. More than just Duty, Discipline and the mission.

With a heavy sigh, Max shook herself out of her melancholy state. She busied herself with putting away her new clothes. Then she made a cursory search of the room. There was no telephone to be bugged. As friendly as these people were, Max never forgot the training she so abhorred. She made certain she knew her exits and the lay of the grounds. As far as she could tell, the room was what it appeared to be. But Max would reserve judgement until she got to know them better, especially the telepaths.

She set her cat burglar outfit out with a wry smile, then made her way downstairs. She reminded herself to get a lock for her door. There was no telling what she might have to hide in the coming days. She slid into an available chair, just as the housekeeper began to serve up.


	7. Chapter Seven

The Glory Of Manticore

Restive Nature

Chapter Seven

"Good evening Max," Charles smiled at her. She couldn't help smiling back. It was smarter to garner a friendly relationship with these people. They would be more inclined to help her. But she had no intentions of developing attachments to them. She had done that in Seattle and had almost gotten more than she could handle in problems.

"Good evening," she replied, including everyone in the gesture.

"I trust your room is acceptable?" Charles was the consummate host.

"Other than being warned about the snoring machine who shares a wall with me, I think it will be perfect," she laughed, glancing in Logan's direction. She had to admit to herself that had a very virile presence. But at the moment, she was having more fun teasing him than admiring his dark, broody looks. He took her bait easily.

"I've never had complaints before," he growled.

"You've probably never stayed in one place long enough," she smirked, unconsciously hitting the nail on the head. Jean and Scott gaped at her. Rogue was quietly fuming, outraged that her idol was being attacked this way. "Oh, settle down, I was just teasing."

"Just so long as you don't snore yourself," Logan teased back, visibly relaxing.

"I don't sleep long enough to snore," Max shrugged.

"Well," Charles interrupted before they could attack again, "what have you planned for this evening Max?"

"Well, I thought I might take a look at my motorcycle," she explained. "I heard it making weird noises. I think the carburetor needs to be cleaned."

"I can take a look at it if you like," Scott offered. Max was already shaking her head.

"Thank you, but no," she declined. "I prefer to take care of it myself."

"Yeah," Logan sneered, "no one touches her baby but her."

"He's just ticked off because I'm a self-sufficient female who doesn't need a big strong man to save me," she retorted.

"It doesn't matter to me one way or the other," Scott decided, secretly pleased that Logan was getting some of his own back. He pushed the pettiness he was feeling aside, to be savored at a far more private moment. "There is an area in the garage where we work on the vehicles. I'll show it to you after dinner."

"That would be great," Max accepted gracefully. She ignored the dark look that Logan sent her way. The rest of the meal passed swiftly. Afterwards, Scott led Max down to the garage. She admired the neat, orderly room. Scott blushed slightly at the compliment. He began to gather the necessary items they would need. Max laid a drop cloth on the floor for them to work on. Scott opened the large bay door so Max could bring her motorcycle in.

As she wheeled her Ninja in, she saw that Scott had brought another motorcycle over and had politely left plenty of room for her. She removed her over shirt and laid it on the workbench, away from the grime. She sat down at the front of her bike and began dismantling it. She barely paused when she heard the door open and looked up to see Logan there. "Couldn't wait to check up on me, huh?"

"Actually," he grunted, "Jean thought I should come help Scott because I've been using his bike for the last few months."

"By all means," Scott invited with a shrug, inwardly looking forward to the possible zingers that might come from Max. Logan knelt down to see what Scott had accomplished so far, but Max diverted both men's attention. She was working so quickly that her hands almost seemed to blur. Within a short period of time, she was cleaning the carburetor. Scott and Logan exchanged mystified glances.

"So, what, are you some kind of professional mechanic too?" Logan demanded again, as he had earlier.

"What's the point of having something if you can't take care of it?" Max countered. She checked the rest of the machine over and, concluding that there didn't seem to be anything else wrong, began to put it back together. Scott hid a smile and watched Logan's facial play. He recognized the interest there, tinged with a little animosity. _'He's definitely interested.'_ He thought with relief. He didn't like that Logan had developed a crush on Jean nearly from the first moment he'd laid eyes on her. He decided to test his theory.

"Hey Max," Scott caught her attention. "I know you haven't had a chance to explore much. I know this great little club over in New York. Maybe you'd like to go sometime with Jean and I?" He watched her think it over, completely ignoring Logan.

"That could be fun," Max shrugged. "I assume it's casual?" Scott nodded. "Then sure, as long as Jean doesn't mind having a tagalong."

"No," Scott assured her. "It's been awhile since we've been able to go out. And I'm sure you could find someone around here that'd come, so you don't feel like a fifth wheel. It'll do us all some good."

"Well, if you look at it like that," Logan drawled, "then maybe I could tagalong too."

"Sure," Scott smiled magnanimously. Logan had never taken up Jean's offer to join them at the blues club before. So it wasn't his girlfriend drawing him there this time. He was glad to see his theory pan out. Max however, busied herself putting her machine together, then moved to help the guys. She cleaned parts while they dismantled others. Surprisingly, they all worked well together. After Scott's motorcycle was together, he offered to let Max test drive it as a way of thanking her for her help. Her eyes lit up and she threw her leg over the seat.

"If you want to experiment with the turbo boost, just wait until you get to a long stretch of isolated road," Scott advised, pointing at the keypad. "Push in the silver button. To disengage the system, press it again. Be careful though, because it really adds speed." With a wicked grin, she started the machine and rode carefully down to the gate. She waited until it was open, then took off with a roar.

"I hope you realize that she's probably going to wreck the damn thing," Logan scoffed. Scott turned to look at him. "Its too much power for a skinny brat. If she kills herself, it's on your head."

"Somehow," Scott grinned, "I think she'll manage just fine." He was proven right, when half an hour later, Max returned. They could both see the ecstasy written on her face.

"I don't know if I can ever return to my baby now," she mourned, half-serious.

"If you like,' Scott offered, "we can rev yours up like mine. It's not really hard to someone of your expertise. I can show you how."

"That would be wonderful," Max accepted. She glanced at the clock on the wall, raising her eyebrows when she saw the time. "It's getting late." Scott agreed and after putting away the tools, they decided to turn in.

Logan watched Max as she walked down the hallway, towards the stairs. The hackles on his neck seemed to vibrate. He tried to shake off the feeling, trying to convince himself that she was up to something. He turned into the lounge area as everyone else went to bed. He made a slight pretense of choosing some reading material, then sat down to wait and see if he was correct. Not an hour later, he wasn't surprised to see Max slink back down the stairs. His body tightened as he took in her form fitting black cat suit. She had a small haversack tossed over one shoulder. She made her way back down to the garage. He followed as carefully as he could. With forethought, she had opened the garage door and was wheeling her bike down the driveway. Logan waited to see which way she turned and then hopped on to Scott's bike to follow. He had a sneaking suspicion about where she was heading.

A/N-Just a quick thank you to everyone who has reviewed.

A reader-I'm looking at a Max/ Wolverine pairing. But some other familiar DA faces will be showing up down the road.

Black Rose 9- Glad you're enjoying it, it was so much fun to write!

Sigma1- Thanks for that about Jean. I thought Max was a little OOC, telling her straight out. But at the time, she was still having seizures. So it all comes into play. And any comments are welcome, it helps me become a better writer!

feenian- Glad you like this story. I'd had it in my head for the longest time. And I'm on a writing schedule, so hopefully the chapters won't be too long in coming.

Ganko- mmm, I can't wait to write the more! But I'm trying to build up the plot a bit. But, it is first season Max. We've got the attitude, the seizures and what else was there... oh Yeah! The heat!!! And while Wolverine may not be a transgenic, he's got a little bit o' the animal in him. waggles eyebrows Should be fun!


	8. Chapter Eight

The Glory Of Manticore

Restive Nature

Chapter Eight

Logan followed Max to the building that they had visited earlier that day. She parked on the other side, in an alley, with an apartment complex closing her in. He parked Scott's bike in the previous alley. Quickly, he keyed in the code to the security system that Scott insisted on. The code had to be re-entered, or the bike couldn't be started again. It was a simple matter, for the mechanic anyhow, to interrupt the gas flow, and locking up the wheels, preventing the use of the bike. He'd done it mainly to prevent it from being stolen. But he'd never gambled on Logan's keen senses being able to pick up the code.

Logan hurried to the alley that Max was in, peering carefully around the corner. He didn't want her knowing that he was there quite yet. He saw her push her bike behind a dumpster. He glanced round the area, wanting to make sure that there were no people around to interfere, then jumped into the alley. Stupefied, he searched the dark shadows, but could find no trace of her. It was only by his specialized hearing that he garnered a clue. A slight squeak gave away he position on the fire escape above him. He grinned at having caught her, but it faded quickly when he realized that the first platform was ten feet high above him. There was no way he could reach it. _'How the hell did she get up there?'_ he wondered. _'She can't have jumped it and she didn't have time to scale it when I wasn't looking.'_ He decided there was no help for it. He'd just have to ask her when she returned.

He stared upwards and was startled to see a long cord, attached to a crossbow bolt fly from the apartment building to the office building. It was pulled taut and then Max stepped out and walked across as if it were a plank of solid wood. His jaw gaped as she crossed without incident. His curiosity was raging about this woman who had invaded their lives. Even the most intensive military training couldn't produce these results. Logan wondered if perhaps Max was a mutant in denial. Maybe she'd been keeping it a secret to keep from attracting attention from unwanted sources. He dropped down to his haunches to wait, determined to get some answers.

He didn't have to wait too long. She dropped down in front of him twenty minutes later, completely nonplussed at finding him. "Cold down there on the ground?"

"Not really," he grunted. He gestured towards the haversack. "I take it you got what you were looking for?"

"Would you believe I was taking a moonlit stroll?" she parried. At his raised eyebrows she sighed and answered. "I got what my Logan needs. Information. That is his job, you know."

"But that doesn't tell me why you're doing the dirty work," Logan pressed.

"I don't think it's any of your business," Max retorted.

"I'm making it my business," Logan growled threateningly, grabbing her arm as she turned away from him. "Maybe I'll make it Xavier's business." He saw that that got no reaction. "Perhaps even the business of the local police. They don't take kindly to burglars roaming the streets, no matter how sweet their asses look in cat suits."

Max laughed outright at the threat. "First off, it's nobody's business what I do, least of all you. Secondly, the police don't take kindly to crackpots making false accusations. You'd have to prove that a crime took place here and I don't see that happening."

"Who the hell are you?" Logan snarled. She shrugged.

"I'm just a girl trying to make a living," Max scoffed. "What's the harm in that?"

"Wait, I thought you worked for a messenger service?" Logan demanded. "How does that coincide with burglary?"

"Have you ever tried to live on a minimum wage salary in Seattle?" Max laughed. "It ain't easy. I have to do a little work on the side occasionally."

"So that's why you work for this guy then?" Logan surmised. She said nothing to change his mind. He sighed. "I guess we should head back to the mansion then."

"Yeah, I need to send this stuff off and then figure out what I'm going to do for cash while I'm here."

"I don't think the professor intended to charge you room and board," Logan chuckled, helping her pull the motorcycle out from behind the trash container. "Unless you're one of those types that thrives on activity? Then I'm sure he can find something for you to do. Maybe you could take over teaching Scott's mechanic classes."

"I'm not sure I can take on a class of adolescent know it alls," Max stated quietly. Logan had the sense that she was lost in thought. She shuddered slightly, then took the handle of the machine from him. "Besides, I'd probably incite them to riot."

"Yeah, I never considered myself the 'good role model' type either," Logan laughed. He stared down at the young woman who'd captivated the majority of his thoughts today. Since meeting her, he could barely keep his mind off of her. Curiosity, annoyance, interest, attraction all wrapped up in one sweet looking bundle. He could barely keep his mind off her. He wondered if there was anyone in her life that he should be jealous of. The question was out of his mouth before his brain could take it back. "So, did you leave anyone behind in Seattle? Anyone who might worry about you?" _'What about Jean?'_ his mind screamed at him.

"All I left behind me were some good friends and a pissed off boss," Max scorned.

"No boyfriend?" his traitorous mouth smiled.

"I'm between them at the moment," Max said strangely, looking at Logan as if sizing him up. "Why, are you offering yourself for the position?"

"No, no," he protested immediately, holding up his hands as if to ward her off.

"Let's go then," Max muttered, still eyeing him strangely.

They returned to the school separately, Max parked her motorcycle and hurried into the house before Logan could detain her further. He picked up the book he had been reading earlier and made his way up to his own room. He entered and shut the door firmly behind him. He had noticed through the crack under the door that Max's light was on. He could hear her through their shared wall, moving about her room. He lay back on his bed and tried to keep his thoughts off the young woman. She was such a conundrum that he was afraid of the headache he would get trying to figure out her life. He still carried the sense that he knew her, having vaguely recognized her scent earlier. But with his faulty memory system, he wasn't sure where from. And she certainly wasn't forthcoming about possibly knowing him. His thoughts tumbled about, keeping him from coherently reading anything understandable. An unbidden image of her in her cat suit came to him. It fit snugly on all the right curves. He shook his head before the image could go further and forced his attention back to the book.

In the next room, Max was completely oblivious to her neighbor's struggles. She was on her knees, exploring the area between the mattress and the box spring. She found nothing. Sighing, she stood and decided to lift the pictures off the wall. Originals, if she wasn't mistaken. She removed the largest and heaviest one first, again finding nothing. She checked the other two and found plain old wall as well. She set the pictures back, making sure they were straight. She was almost starting to believe that she might actually have found a safe haven to shelter in. She pulled the disk that she'd copied at the office from her haversack and placed it in the drawer of her nightstand. She could have gone down to the study and sent it back to the Eyes Only informant network. She could have, but she didn't want to alert anyone to her abnormal sleeping patterns.

She pulled out a book and lay back on the bed to read awhile. Then maybe she'd exercise. Then she could read some more. Then maybe two or three hours of sleep. She sighed as she thought of the long nights ahead. Maybe she could find a small television and video machine to fill her hours. Tossing her book aside, she decided to head downstairs and explore some more. If anyone caught her and asked why she was up, she could always claim that she was after a midnight snack. Perhaps got lost in her sleepy state? She slipped from her room as quietly as she could. But she hadn't counted on the super sensitive ears of her neighbor, unconsciously trained on her every move.

Logan heard the door next to his open and shut. He wondered what she was up to now. He debated leaving off his reading and checking on her, then decided he didn't have the energy to chase her if she went out again. He lay on the bed for all of five minutes before his curiosity got the better of him. He rose to his feet and slipped through his own door. He padded down the stairs, wondering where he would find her. He scanned what he could see of the ground floor and was lucky enough to catch a glimpse of her disappearing into the elevator. He waited for it to return to the main floor, then followed. She was waiting for him. He greeted her with a lopsided grin. She shrugged her shoulders.

"Maybe I could get that tour now?" she asked in a soft voice. He chuckled and gestured down the hall.

"Do you want to start where I did, or just go from here?" he asked.

"Where did you start?"

"When I first arrived, I was still unconscious," Logan recalled. "Then I woke up in the infirmary. After I overpowered Jean, I ran out here, took some clothes from the training room and made my way upstairs. Hid behind the columns because classes were out, then burst in on the professor."

"What was with all that?" she laughed softly.

"Well, I had no idea who these people were," Logan informed her. "When I woke up, Jean was trying to stick me with a needle and I was definitely not going for that. I just wanted to get the hell out."

"I know how that feels," Max concurred. He stared at her, wondering if he dared upset the unspoken truce by asking about her past. It was as elusive as his was at this point, with so much of it not adding up.

"Anyone who's been AWOL for ten years would have a pretty good idea about wanting out," he chuckled. "But the thing I don't get, is that you said you were in for almost eleven years, been AWOL for ten, yet you claim to be twenty years old. So who the hell are you?"

"Who the hell are you to be demanding answers from me?" Max demanded angrily. "My life is my business. How many times do I have to repeat it?"

"Look lady," Logan was finally letting himself get hot under the collar as well, "everything you say contradicts at some point. To have been in the army for as long as you say, you'd have had to have enlisted the moment you were born. And what the hell was with disappearing up that office building? And the tightrope act? What, you ran away from the army and joined the circus?"

"Yeah, that's exactly what I did," Max scoffed. "The marvelous Max and her miraculous mysteries." Logan could hear the scorn in her voice and cringed a little. He couldn't understand why he was always on the defensive with her. He'd never been this nasty with others unless provoked. Something about her unbalanced him. "You know, all I'm trying to do is live my life the way I see fit. That means I am responsible and beholden only to myself. I knew it was a mistake to come here and put my faith in a bunch of mutants that I don't even know. Every time I think I got the DL, I get a nasty little shock. My brother always says, don't trust anybody and this time he'd right. So I'm just going to leave like I should have done in the first place."

Logan let her rant and get it out of her system. Then, without understanding why, only running on the lust she instilled in him, he yanked her to him and kissed her. She struggled faintly. His hands locked about her waist; unable to deny the feeling that now something was finally and completely right in his life. Like he was made to have her in his arms. She pushed a little harder again against his chest. He loosened his grip when he realized she wasn't fighting him. He moved one hand up to her head and ran his fingers through her lush, dark hair. His lips moved over hers lightly now. No longer punishing, they were almost tickling. Finally she broke away from him. He stared at her as she scrubbed at her mouth with the back of her hand.

"Quite a technique you've got there," she taunted.

"I just wanted you to shut up," he shrugged back. He felt a little knife of disappointment spear through him. At least he had that question answered. She wasn't interested. "Would you like that tour now?"

"Actually," Max backed away from him, "I think I'll just go back to bed." She turned and hurried back to the elevator. The doors closed after her and Logan groaned in disappointment. Her mention of bed was definitely the wrong this to say. His own lips were still tingling. But, as he thought back over their conversation, he realized that he'd be better off staying the hell away from her. He wondered again about the possibility of her being another mutant. In their earlier conversation, he'd told her that he healed quickly. Quickly, that was a laugh. How about near instantaneous if it were a cut or scrape. The worst of it had been when he dealt with Rogue. She was the one person who even came close to killing him. Then something clicked in his mind. Max had claimed that she healed quickly as well. She had even jokingly asked if that made her a mutant. Was it possible that she was and was trying to figure it out? It might also explain why she looked so young, if she had a power similar to his. Jean still hadn't come up with a way to determine his own age. He climbed into the elevator finally, still musing on these thoughts as he traveled back upstairs.


	9. Chaoter Nine

The Glory Of Manticore

Restive Nature

Chapter Nine

Logan made his way back to his room, his mind spinning around. It was extremely rare to be a mutant. But for two mutants to have the same power? He decided that it wasn't likely. But then he thought better of it. He had dealt what he considered to be a killing blow to Mystique, yet she had survived. And he certainly didn't know every mutant on the face of the earth. Maybe it was possible. As he lay back on his bed, he resolved to ask Jean about the possibilities of it in the morning. He drifted off, finally content to let sleep take him.

Max wasn't so lucky. Logan's kiss had affected her more than she wanted to admit. It had been awhile since her unfulfilling relationship with Eric had fizzled out. Not that she was upset about that. There was the veiled flirting with Eyes Only, but it had never panned out. And it wasn't as if she had done anything with Eric. He had passed out from all the beers he'd consumed while waiting at the bar for her that first night. And she couldn't bring herself to stoop so low afterwards. But Logan was different. Somehow Max had the feeling that the majority of the guys she had dated before weren't quite men. They all seemed to be boys, playing at being grown-up. But Logan was definitely all man. He was handsome, in a rugged, outdoorsy way. He was aggressive as well. Max didn't usually find the cave man routine appealing, but Logan managed to carry it off.

In relationships, Max had either been the aggressor or she just floated along, not caring either way. She wondered how she should play this. On one hand, Logan might be a guy she could count on. One who would protect her, not that she needed it. But on the other hand, with what she already knew of him, he could become overbearing in the process. And she didn't want the burden of commitment right now. Of course, all this conjecture might be pointless. He might not even be interested beyond a roll in the hay, if even that. Max began to wonder if she were coming into her estrus cycle a little early. _'Another one of the great mysteries of being me,'_ she thought in disgust.

All thought of previous lovers and Logan's close proximity began to needle at Max. She decided to find a decent book and soak her sorrows away. She picked through her limited selection, not wanting to venture out and encounter anyone else. Then she made her way to the bathroom and sat on the edge of the tub as she filled it. She noticed the basket resting on the shelf and pulled it closer. It was filled with fragrant bath beads and she inhaled in pleasure. She picked out a light floral scent finally and dropped a few in the tub. As the water reached the perfect level, Max stood and disrobed, leaving her clothes where she stepped out of them. There would be plenty of time to pick them up later. She slid into the water, moaning in pure enjoyment. If there was one thing she cherished, it was a hot water heater. Squatting in an abandoned building made you appreciate the comforts that other people took for granted. She soaked for some time before she remembered her book.

After Max was finally able to relax, her night passed more swiftly. She cleaned the tub after it was emptied, then picked up her clothes. She found her long tee shirt that she usually slept in and put it on. She lay on the bed to finish the novel. It was a murder mystery and she figured out the culprit by the end of the second chapter. She finished reading just to see how the author would reveal the murderer.

Before she realized it she was waking up to the sound of the birds chirping outside her window. With a glance at the clock, saw it was a few minutes before six. She'd managed to get a few hours of sleep in. She swung her legs over the side of the bed. Before she could stand, she recognized the tremors shaking her legs. She reached for the bottle of pills in the nightstand. Struggling to remove the childproof cap, she grunted in frustration. Finally, it came loose and pills spilled into her hand. She jammed the cap back on, dropping the bottle into the drawer as her other hand threw the pills into her open mouth. She swallowed convulsively, then waited.

The seizure came before the tryptophan could work. She tried to hold herself still, but the bed shook anyway. She managed to lock her arms around her drawn up legs. The shaking continued even as the lamp on the nightstand fell to the floor with a resounding crash.

Logan was awoken from his sound sleep by the crash. It took him a moment to orient himself. He sat up on his bed, realizing finally that the noise had come from Max's room. He barely debated the wisdom of checking on her. He padded quietly to her door and knocked politely. He called her name softly, but there was no answer.

Max heard Logan at the door and felt panic rise in her chest. She couldn't let him see her this way. She continued to shake, cursing the blasted door for not having a lock on it. Logan knocked again, this time a little louder.

"Max, are you okay?" he called in a stage whisper. Finally the seizure ebbed. Max went with the only option she felt she had left. With preternatural speed, she pulled the blankets up over herself, placed her hand where the lamp had been and let her head loll into a natural position. She closed her eyes just as the knob began to turn.

Logan turned the doorknob, fully expecting the door to be yanked out of his hand and his ears blistered for this intrusion. H was pleasantly surprised when he pushed the door open to see Max curled up tighter than an egg roll at the top of her bed. One arm lay across the nightstand. _'She must have knocked the lamp off the table in her sleep,' _he realized, seeing the object lying on its side on the floor. He tiptoed forward before it occurred to hi that someone who slept through the crashing of a lamp would probably sleep through a quick check. He picked the lamp up, placing it beyond her reach.

Staring at the prone young woman, all his feelings from the previous night came surging back. With hesitant fingers, he brushed her hair back from her sweat-dampened face. His fingers burned a trail along her cheek. He gritted his teeth as a hint of arousal coursed through him. _'Damn it, she wasn't interested,'_ he reminded himself sharply. He pulled his hand back and retreated from her room, his breathing ragged. He pulled the door shut with a soft click, then leaned back against it, running his hand over his face. He heard another door open and glanced down the hallway. He cursed his luck when he saw Scott's smirking face briefly, before the door shut again. He hurried back to his own room.

Max waited until she was sure that Logan was completely gone before she opened her eyes. Her cheek was warm where his touch had been. She had been hard pressed not to feign that state between sleep and full awareness. She'd been tempted to pull him down to the bed, just to see how he'd react. _'Knowing my track record,'_ she thought, _'he'd probably wake the whole school screaming rape.'_

She let loose her legs and once again sat up. She pushed her hair back over her shoulder, then stood and padded softly to the bathroom. She splashed some water on her face, then patted herself dry with a hand towel. She stared at her reflection and cursed silently at the lingering blush.

Logan sat on his bed, his thoughts coursing rapidly. He wondered what conclusion Scott had drawn. Maybe Logan had better explain the circumstances. But then again, Scott may not believe him. He cured softly at the situation he had created, then cursed again for even caring.

Max descended the stairs an hour later, heading for the dining room and the waiting meal. She paused outside the room to collect herself. She pushed the door open to see everyone seated and already beginning their meal. "Sorry," she apologized lightly, "I'm not sure about your schedule here."

"Perfectly all right," the professor dismissed it with a wave of his hand. He gestured to the last remaining seat. Of course it was right across from Logan. Max slid into the chair with a silent groan. The housekeeper set a plate before her and she dug into the food with relish.

"That was quite a dream you were having this morning Max," Logan's voice was low and only vaguely concerned.

"What?" she asked, trying to look somewhat surprised.

"I woke up this morning from a crash," he began. "I thought I'd better check it out. It seemed you knocked your lamp over."

"I did?" she asked. He nodded. "It was fine when I woke up," she stated, wondering how far this would play out.

"Yeah," he answered. "I picked it up so you wouldn't step on it by accident. Glass in the foot is not pleasant."

"No," she agreed, amused. "It isn't." She was intrigued by this public performance. Maybe he suspected that she hadn't been asleep and was trying to suss her out. But the furtive glare he shot Scott was telling in its own way. "Well, thank you then. I'm not usually such a heavy sleeper." She glanced again at Scott, who was trying to control the smirk on his face and not succeeding. Her gaze fell to Jean and the woman was watching her in a thoughtful manner.

"Perhaps your trip is catching up with you," Storm suggested kindly. Max nodded slowly in agreement.

"It did take a bit out of me," she stated. She studiously ignored the looks that Logan was sending her. Turning to the professor, she asked, "is there some way I could borrow your computer today? I've got to send some information to Seattle."

"By all means," Charles replied. "The study is free until nine."

"Thanks," she smiled. She finished her meal and rose to complete her Eyes Only job. She hurried up to her room to retrieve the disk she'd made. She found the study again easily. After logging on, she prepared the information and sent it to Logan Cale. She included a note, explaining that she'd send the hard copy that day. She logged off, deciding to finish her task now instead of later. That way she could check out some upgrades for her room as well, realizing belatedly that she had definitely decided to stay.


	10. Chapter Ten

The Glory Of Manticore

Restive Nature

Chapter Ten

Max left the house before anyone could stop her. She almost flew to town, so great was her desire to be away from the confusion. Her first stop was the post office. She addressed the package quickly and took it to the postmaster. He asked her if she wanted a receipt, which she declined. He turned his back to retrieve her change and she took the opportunity to disappear. Since it was only a few coins, she knew the clerk would just write her off as absentminded. She hoped that they didn't notice that the return address she'd supplied was that of an abandoned lot she'd passed by yesterday. Even here she couldn't be too careful.

From there, she made her way to the mall. She headed straight to the locksmith's shop. After browsing a few minutes, she picked out a new locking doorknob and a sliding lock bolt. She also grabbed a pocket set of screwdrivers, then chose a rechargeable drill with bits. She certainly did not want to be caught unawares. And asking to borrow the school's tools would just bring about questions she still didn't feel like answering.

She asked for and received directions to the discount department store. She made her way slowly, window-shopping as she walked. As she passed a small, private boutique, she noticed a hot dress. With spaghetti straps, the low cut, thigh high mini dress was just the thing for a night at a jazz club. She could just imagine the look on Logan's face if she appeared in it. Deciding, she moved into the store and found the dress in her size. A young lady came over to help her. She directed Max to the dressing room. Max slid into the dress, sighing as the material shimmered in the overhead light. _'Damn but I look good in red,'_ she thought to herself. She twirled around, then lifted her hair up to feel the full effect, finding it to be worth the effort. She removed the dress reluctantly. She placed it back on the hanger and donned her street clothes. She too it out to the clerk.

"Will you be taking that today?" the clerk asked politely. Max sighed and shook her head.

"I'll have to wait until payday," she answered mournfully, having already debated with herself. She could blow the rest of her money on this dress and put up with utter boredom at night, or she could go for the television and other stuff and hope they still had the dress in a few days.

"I could hold it until say, Saturday?" the clerk offered. "We're not supposed to, but none of our regular customers could pull it off like you." That decided it.

"Thank you," Max smiled and picked up her bag from the lock shop. She gave a fake name and waited for the girl to write it down. "I'll see you Saturday." She sailed out the door, her eyes taking in everything. She continued to the discount store. After looking and comparing, she finally decided on the combination television and video machine. She inquired about the cost of delivery and finally paid for her newest acquisition. She figured, when her hiding out was done, she could ship it back to Seattle to enjoy once in a while. She gave the store the school's address, then found a coffee shop to rest and decide what she could do for the rest of her day. She took stock of the amount of money in her pockets. A job of some sort was definitely in order. _'Maybe I can kick it up to New York soon and find a good fence,'_ she decided.

Finishing the last dregs of her coffee, she rose with her bag and returned to her motorcycle. She stowed the bag in the sidesaddle. Wary of the local law enforcement, she scoped out a few homes for their burglar potential. Like most mid-size towns, some people were fanatical about locking their doors. But others stoutly maintained that crime could never affect them. Max always got a wry chuckled about proving them wrong. She made note of some of the more affluent areas and figured the odds on how many hits she could pull off without suspicion. Satisfied that she would see some money come her way soon, she headed back to the school. If she were lucky, she'd be able to install the lock while everyone else was occupied.

Her mood held when she found the large house quiet, for the most part. As she slipped in, she caught sight of Logan. He was lounging on the sofa, trying to pretend absorption in his book. She ignored him and hurried up the stairs. She waited a few minutes to see if he would follow. When no one appeared, Max pulled out her array of tools and set to work changing the knob and adding the bolt. She slid the bolt back and forth, testing the strength of it. She figured that it wouldn't stand up to a major assault, but it would at least give her some notice. Now all she had to do was await her other delivery and she would be set. She exited the room, making sure that she had the key in her pocket. It was very close to lunchtime, as her rumbling stomach informed her. She moved to the lounge, recalling that there were some videos there to choose from. She perused the choices and made a few mental notes of what she wanted to watch. If the television arrived that afternoon as promised, she could have it all set up by tonight. All she would need to do was find some popcorn, maybe a little wine, depending on her mood. The easy life had some definite advantages. She chuckled as she recalled the nights of her childhood. There were some dismal times. She and Jondy were unable to sleep more than two or three hours at most, which they wisely attributed to shark DNA in their Manticore cocktail mix. But their sleep wasn't regularly monitored. Max was sure that the higher ups would have come up with something for the girls to do if they'd been aware of the discrepancy.

Logan had noticed Max as soon as she'd entered the house. He watched now with interest as she knelt before the video storage shelves and looked over the titles. He laid his book aside, glancing at the clock. Almost lunchtime. He'd been wondering where she had been all morning. He heard her chuckle and almost bit his tongue to keep from asking what was so funny. He really had to get control of himself. He wasn't looking forward to the teasing he was sure to receive from Scott, not to mention the others if this became common knowledge. The sofa shifted as Max sat on the other end.

"What were you reading?" she asked. He stared down at the book beside him.

"Um," he hesitated, his mid drawing a blank.

"I've never read that before," she replied, her face serious. "Who wrote it? Personally, I prefer mysteries."

"No, it's just a Coonts novel," he replied after glancing at the title. He watched the smile playing about her lips. "You know, history, war, intrigue."

"Yeah," she muttered, "don't I ever?"

"You don't like reading about that stuff?" Logan demanded lightly. "Or did you get enough of it in the army?"

"The second one," Max groaned. They were silent until a few minutes later when the bell rang to signal the end of class. "Well, I guess it's lunchtime."

"Don't hurry too much," Logan advised, pulling her back down. "The kids are usually pretty hungry. And teenage boys are like wolves. They'll go through anything to get some food."

"I thought that only applied when they're chasing down pretty girls," Max teased.

"Nah," he teased right back. "A teenage boy will give up anything for food. The best way for a girl to keep a guy's attention at that age is to learn how to cook." He could have smacked himself on the forehead as soon as the words were out of his mouth. But Max didn't look at all offended.

"Well, they are not the only ones who are hungry," she decided, standing again. "My stomach is knocking against my backbone, I'm so hungry. He gazed up at her, or at least he tried. Her sashaying body, mere inches from his caught his attention. Max paused, a few feet away from him and glanced back over her shoulder. She smirked at him as he finally pulled his attention back up to her face. "Funny thing, I never learned how to cook, you know?"

"Really?" he asked huskily, then cleared his throat. "Guess it's a good thing I'm not a teenaged kid."

"Yeah," she chuckled. "Good thing." She continued down the hallway trying to keep a straight face. They arrived almost together at the dining room, but took seats on opposite ends. Max conversed politely with Jean and Scott while Logan barely heard Storm and Charles vie briefly for his attention. He finally forced himself to pay attention, but occasionally would hear her laughter and gaze in her direction. She on the other hand, was much more successful at ignoring him.


	11. Chapter Eleven

The Glory of Manticore

Restive Nature

Chapter Eleven

Once lunch had finished, the professor directed the students to take the afternoon off. Puzzled, the students made their way outdoors, or up to their respective rooms. While an afternoon off wasn't entirely rare, the students knew it meant much more to the teachers. Specifically when it was an unscheduled afternoon such as this. Some of the older children that had been at the school longer than the others had an inkling of what was going on. The adults they labored under and learned from had turned their attention to a much more pressing issue. One that would hopefully be dealt with swiftly. And those teens waited to see if they'd again catch glimpses of their secret heroes in flight, many imagining themselves among the elite team known affectionately as the X-men.

Max realized at once, from the few veiled looks shared between Jean and the professor that they weren't sure whether or not to invite her to the meeting. She took that decision from them by simply excusing herself after the meal and heading up to the room assigned to her. Just because she had decided to stay, didn't mean she needed to get involved in their mission. She'd already done that with Eyes Only and look what it had gotten her. A big fat load of problems and not much else.

Logan was torn between following after the elusive woman he'd known for so short a time and joining the others. Charles had included him automatically, considering him a team member, whether Logan liked it or not. Logan had the sneaking suspicion that even were Max bored out of her mind up in her room, it would be a lot more fun than what they were on their way to discuss. He was the last to enter the study the professor used, both for teaching and research. He shut the door behind himself and moved to lounge against the wall near the massive bookcase.

"What's going on?" Scott asked of his mentor, politely, casually interested.

Charles sighed as he settled himself in at his desk. He pulled up the information he'd received prior to lunch, finding that the pictures he'd been waiting for had finally come in. He looked them over carefully, his mind sweeping out to remember everything he'd gleaned from his powers in regards to the information he was about to impart. But nothing surfaced immediately. His hand hovered over the computer screen as he began to speak. "A contact of mine sent me a plea for help. Recently, there has been a spate of murders. All unsolved."

"A mutant?" Storm asked quietly. It was the first question on all their minds. Whether she meant a mutant killer, or a mutant dead, did not matter. In their solidarity, it affected them either way.

"It appears that the unspoken theory is that it is a mutant perpetrating these crimes," Charles spoke slowly, distastefully. As much as he'd hated to admit it, not all mutants believed as he did, that mutants and humans could live together in peace and prosperity. He glanced about the room, visually taking in their reactions, even as he let his other senses pick out the overriding feeling of interest and sadness pervading his children. "There's more."

"There usually is," Logan grunted. For so long, the mutant issue hadn't bothered him. He'd had enough to deal with just trying to make it to the next day without going completely insane.

"The authorities have established that the killer is following a certain set pattern in each of the murders," Charles continued.

"Serial killings?" Jean asked, on the same wavelength as her teacher. Charles nodded. "What…?" she trailed off, uncertain whether she really wanted details of not.

"It's quite gruesome," Charles shuddered slightly, unable on some levels to deal with the atrocities people could commit on each other. "What has the authorities worried and upset is that apparently a normal human would be unable to kill in the manner the killer uses." He held a hand up to prevent the onslaught of questions. "The coroner's all agree that the victims vertebrae are snapped… with one hand." He was quiet a moment as he let that sink in. He could see the revulsion on their faces. He had expected that. Quickly followed by the calculating musings. What mutants were they aware of that were that strong?

"Sabretooth," Logan grunted. He glanced about the room. "Are we sure he died?" They'd seen the mutant receive a devastating blow from Scott's optic blast, throwing the mutant from the room they'd been trapped in. But no report of a body being recovered from the area below had been made. So there was one possibility.

Charles nodded once in Logan's direction. It was something to consider. "There seem to be clues," he continued, when it seemed no one else had anything to offer. "The victims are all killed in the same manner. Displayed in the same manner. The victims' teeth are all removed. And there is a certain tattoo applied in the same place on each of the victims." With a regretful shudder, he swung the monitor of his computer around, displaying the latest crime scene pictures his contact had managed to obtain. There were gasps of shock and revulsion at the graphic display of atrocity.

"What can we do?" Jean whispered. While disgusted by the sight before her, her analytical mind was cataloguing the injuries, making her own assessment of the cause of death. Applying what she knew of the human body to imagine the pain level the victim had endured before finding relief in death. "Can we search?" she asked hesitantly. The professor nodded.

"This last murder took place just outside of New York," he announced calmly, waiting for the inevitable slew of fury.

Max relined on her bed, slowly watching the hands of the clock ticking by. Her boredom was mounting. Her hand hovered over one of the many books she could have read, but it was all the same. She'd figure out the entire plot before the third chapter, sometimes the fourth and there was nothing but the overly familiar words of resolution at the end. Too many formulaic writers were finding work while the truly gifted writers were shunted off to the side. She grinned wryly at the thought of writing of her own impossible to believe life history. That would definitely be classified as science fiction, with heavy emphasis on the fiction. It was one thing for mutants to be out in the world. At least they'd started off as human and still retained that humanity, however much the common masses liked to argue.

She glanced out the window, wondering if she dared another ride on her baby. Or maybe she could borrow Scott's ride. That was certainly a sweet piece of machinery. Making up her mind, she rose from the bed and was about to retrieve her coat from the closet, when a knock sounded at the door. She crossed to it swiftly, wondering if Logan was back to pester her some more. But she was pleasantly surprised. The young lady she'd seen at lunch, sitting a way down the table, with the strange white lock in her hair was waiting on the other side.

"Yeah?" she asked somewhat curtly. She couldn't help it. She hadn't been made for inaction and it showed in her clipped words.

"Hey Max," Rogue smiled half-heartedly. She was still on the fence about this newcomer. She was older than all the other students were, though she didn't seem as old as the teachers. She wasn't in any of the classes and she'd stood up to Logan, Rogue's hero. But, knowing how prickly said hero was Rogue could easily imagine that Logan had put his foot in it with the latest addition to the mansion. So she had decided to reserve judgement until she hopefully got to know the woman better.

"You're… Marie, right?" Max searched her impeccable memory, knowing that she'd got the briefly mentioned name correct. The girl's nod was unnecessary, but understandable.

"Yeah, I just came up to let you know that you have a delivery," Rogue informed her quickly. The other woman's face lit up and Rogue stepped back to let her by.

Max pulled the door shut behind her, not bothering to lock it. She figured that if it was the television she'd been expecting she'd be right back up quickly enough. She followed Rogue down the steps; not worrying that the girl didn't seem inclined to go her own way after delivering the message. She could see that the girl was curious about her. And so knowing that figured that accepting a delivery wasn't going to give away anything important. Sometimes she really despised being so careful around others. Unable to let them in for fear that the secrets of her life would put them in danger. Or worse, get them killed. But somehow, she sensed that these kids, more than many others in the world understood and shared her reticence.

It was just her luck however that the little meeting between the teachers let out just as she made it to the door. She ignored the looks directed her way, wishing that they had something to entertain themselves with, preferably away from her. She focused her attention on the man lounging in the doorway, a bored look upon his face. "You Max Gueverra?" he asked as she neared him. She nodded and he held out the clipboard that he'd had dangling by his side. She signed and was about to hand it back, when she noticed the obvious leer the man was giving her. "Do ya want a hand with that?" he asked his voice low and probably what he considered suggestive. "A little lady like you might need help handlin' a heavy box like that."

Max slammed the clipboard into his midsection; effectively cutting off any other suggestion he might make. "Yeah, I think I've got it," she snarled sarcastically. The guy shrugged as he caught sight of Logan, standing somewhat protectively behind her. He slipped out the door, dragging the dolly behind him and they all heard the delivery van retreat. Logan was about to offer a hand when Max hefted the package as if it were a box of tissues. She climbed the steps to her room, Logan right behind her. Surprisingly, he moved ahead of her, politely opening her door for her so she wouldn't have to juggle the box or set it down.

But before she could get the door shut, he was in her room, looking down at the package. "Oh sorry," he grinned at her apologetically. His mind raced to come up with an excuse as to why he was there. Despite the outcome of each of their little thrust and parries, this woman still extraordinarily intrigued him. And he needed a distraction from the grueling images he'd just seen. "Um, the professor wanted to make sure it was for you," he offered lamely, almost wanting to smack himself at his sudden ineptitude.

"Well, since it has my name on it, and I was expecting it," she drawled. "Then yeah, I think it's for

me."

"Oh…," his curiosity was still flaring, getting the better of him. "What is it?"

She simply grinned up at him and ripped open the tape covering the opening. He helped her extricate the set and moved the box out of her way as she set the television down on the bed. She quickly repositioned things on the table next to the door and lifted the set onto it.

"You know," Logan grinned, watching her. "We do have one of those downstairs."

"Yeah, but I don't want to interfere with the school day," she explained again. "This way, I can watch, day or night and not have to worry about fighting over the shows."

"Yeah, that's right," Logan recalled. "You don't sleep much."

"Not really," she remarked. She picked up her waist pack and donned it, preparing to head out again. "All I need now it some popcorn."

"We have some microwave stuff in the kitchen," he informed her, his words nearly tumbling over each other. "You know, for those late night cravings. You don't need to buy any. Or are you going to buy a microwave too?"

"That would be great, wouldn't it?" Max laughed. "Have my own personal paradise right in this room. Of course, I'd have to get a mini fridge, stock it with a nice import beer. Then I'd have to get one of those shiatsu chairs. Replace the bathtub with a hot tub instead. Mmm, heaven."

"You drink beer?" Logan demanded, laughing as well, even as he tried to push images of Max glistening, wet, not clad in much of anything at all out of his mind. At her puzzled look, he went on. "I thought you'd be more of a wine lover."

"Oh, I'll drink wine," she chuckled. "But beer is a wee bit more affordable."

"I know what you mean," he sighed. "There's a lot of things that are different these days." Unbidden, an image of the mutant's victim came to mind. "And some things will never change." For violence, in whatever form, was still violence. And that he knew on much more intimate levels than he was ready to share.

But Max was slightly more intuitive than the majority of the people she normally surrounded herself with. She noticed right away, the distance in his eyes as he spoke. "Hey," she murmured, softening slightly at Logan's pained expression, wondering what could have caused it. "You okay?"

"Yeah," he muttered, trying to push the image out of his head. It was something of a technique he'd developed over the years. Unfortunately it didn't work as well when the images were of what he believed to be his past. "Just some crap you don't want to deal with."

"Oh?" Even though he might have believed she wouldn't care, Max never was able to let up her self-preservation mode. For her own sanity, the need to stay out of Manticore, she couldn't let up. Logan eyed her speculatively. Again, the idea that this woman was a mutant in denial came to him. Perhaps this was just the information he'd been looking for to get her to admit it.

"Yeah, Xavier came across a mutant who's been killing humans," he offered as nonchalantly as he could, keeping his eyes glued to her, ready to gather and interpret any reaction he could from her. All he got was a disinterested nod. He sighed. "Nothing for you to worry about, I guess."

"I guess."

His gaze fell to the floor, wondering what else he could say that would get her interest. And then the words flew from his mouth. "So, did you still want to go to that club that Scott mentioned?"

A/n- I wanted to thank everyone again for their reviews. Some of them gave me alot of food for thought. Everyone seems to have valid opinions on the development of the characters in this fiction and I love hearing about it. Especially from those dedicated to studying who Logan or Max was in the forums presented. I hope you liked this chapter and if enjoy the upcoming chapters.


	12. Chapter Twelve

Title: The Glory Of Manticore

Author: Restive Nature (aka Bavite)

Rated: R

Disclaimer: I in no way, shape or form own the characters of Dark Angel or X-Men or anything related to them. I simply like to play with them for a short while.

Timeline: This is a slightly AU story. It takes place more in Max's timeline, with the pulse occurring. It begins after the episode 'Blah Blah, Woof Woof" It doesn't affect the X-men much, as Professor Xavier is affluent enough to afford the best in life. It also takes place after the first X-men movie, but as I haven't seen the second one, I'll leave that stuff alone.

Pairing M/L

Summary: Once again Max is on the run. But this time she is led to a safe haven.

Chapter Twelve

Max bit her lip and stared at Logan. It was amazing, the amounts of times that she had rebuffed him, the foremost thought in her mind to protect herself. But whatever she did, he kept coming back. Offering some sort of friendship. She wanted to laugh. All these years that she had yearned for her family, she'd finally learned to make friends with people who weren't like her. And now that she had decided that that was something she couldn't afford, there it was being shoved in her face.

But Max had also learned that she couldn't be nothing but on guard every moment of her life. She nodded slowly. "Yeah, I'd still like to go. That is, if you guys want to."

Logan's eyes lit up just a little. At least she hadn't shut down the idea totally like he'd been expecting her to. "Good," he nodded. He turned to leave her room, but stopped suddenly and turned back. "Actually, I had this idea," he offered quickly, as if the faster he said it, the less likely she'd be to reject it. "Why don't we make a weekend of it? We could go up Friday after school ends, get a couple hotel rooms. Maybe do some sight seeing…" He trailed off, trying to gauge what she thought of the idea. "Red and Cyke could really use a break," he threw in hastily, not above using others for his own gain.

"Yeah, that wouldn't be a problem," Max shrugged, recalling how earlier she'd had a similar idea of going up to New York. "If Jean and Scott want to, that's fine by me."

"All right," Logan let out his breath that he'd been holding. "I'll ask them tonight." He slipped from her room, unable to control the grin spreading over his face. At least she hadn't rejected the idea out of hand because it came from him. She'd seemed, well, if not excited, at least looking forward to the weekend. It was a step in the right direction. Of course, the ultimate destination was still unknown to him. He was just following this insane urge, almost an instinct to get to know this girl.

Max didn't give too much thought to what Logan had offered until later as she replayed the conversation in her head. 'A couple hotel rooms', could have meant many things. Two rooms, four rooms? He'd never specified. But finally Max decided that a couple probably meant three. One for her, one for him and one for the happy couple. Or perhaps he meant two, one for the men, and one for the women. Of course, that didn't seem too likely, what with the undercurrent of hostility between Scott and Logan. But she finally decided not to dwell on it. She'd find out when they got there and if the arrangements didn't suit her, she could always change them. Although she stubbornly refused to ponder what exact arrangement she would prefer.

She made it down to the dinner table while it was relatively empty. She chose an empty area of the table and was pleasantly surprised when Storm took a seat across from her. The rest of the table swiftly filled up, but through divine inspiration or humor, Max wasn't sure which, there were still two empty seats. One beside her and the other beside Jean. She mentally groaned, realizing just whom it was still missing from the table. Charles had already positioned himself at the head of the table and had nodded at the housekeeper and the students who had kitchen duty that week to begin serving the meal. He was of the persuasion that if one didn't care to be on time, one could eat their meal elsewhere. Elsewhere usually being with whomever was on duty, in the kitchen. But just before the food was brought in, Scott and Logan hurried into the room.

Max held her breath as Logan slipped into the chair next to hers and Scott took up his usual place. Max fiddled with the utensils before her, avoiding his gaze. Logan seemed to immediately picked up on this and just let her be for the moment. He'd just finished talking to Scott about this coming weekend, surprised to find the other man so amenable to the idea. Of course, Scott had been all about clearing it with the professor first, which Logan grudgingly admitted, was necessary. But being a smart man, Logan knew better than to announce his, their plans in a room full of children that would like nothing better than to spend the weekend blowing off steam. To his relief, Storm asked Max what she thought of their fair town and drew her into a conversation that relieved both of them and seemed to amuse Storm. But she'd always been a cool one.

Once the meal got underway and the teens and adults alike were caught up in their own worlds, Max managed to relax a little. She talked with Storm and with one of the students, Bobby, with Logan throwing in a few idle comments. But when she began to rise from her seat, Logan's hand on her arm stilled her. "Can I talk to you for a second?" he asked in a low voice. Max paused and nodded, continuing on her way. Logan followed behind her until they'd reached the main hallway.

"What did you need?" Max asked, glad to find her voice steady. Logan relaxed against one of the columns supporting the expansive room, careful not to get too close to her.

"Talked to Cyke earlier," he informed her. She nodded, trying not to let her attention wander. "He said a whole weekend sounded good, but he needs to clear it with Jean and the professor first."

"Okay," she nodded again, relieved that it was a fairly neutral topic. Their debates if one could call them that were so far fairly heated. "Anything else?"

"Yeah, I think Cyke wanted to talk to you about somethin' too," Logan shrugged, although he was pleased at how easily they seemed to be talking. Maybe offering friendship had been the way to go. She certainly hadn't seemed interested in anything else.

"Okay," Max sighed. "I guess I'll go find him."

"He's probably with Jean, upstairs," Logan figured. It was strange that the usual venom at that thought, of Scott being with Jean that was usually present, was well, still present, but quite undermined. Was he getting over Jean? He hadn't thought it possible, but since Max had shown up, things had really been turned upside down. Logan watched her walk away, his thoughts heavy as he tried to discern again just what it was about this girl that had every part of him itching right down to his toenails.

Max was about to knock on Jean and Scott's bedroom door, but the low urgent tone she heard emanating from inside made her pause.

"…you can't push yourself so hard Jean," definitely Scott's voice. "We'll find this mutant, it's only a matter of time."

"Time we don't have Scott," Jean replied heatedly. "What if this mutant kills again before we find it? What then?" There was some muffled movement and Max assumed that Scott was trying to calm her in a more personal matter. She waited a few moments before knocking, slightly embarrassed for having eavesdropped. But when genetic enhancement was rife through your body, sometimes you didn't have a choice. The door swung open and Max pasted an innocent look on her face.

"Oh, hey Max," Scott smiled and Max wondered if it even reached his eyes. With the protective glasses in place, it was slightly harder to read him. But the rest of his body language was relatively tension free. This mutant on the loose must be pretty tame stuff for this group if Scott wasn't all that upset by it. Jean was another story.

"Hey, Logan said you wanted to talk to me," she supplied quickly. Scott looked pensive for a moment, as if remembering that he'd said so.

"Yeah, come on in," he stepped back to allow entry into their room. Max glanced around curiously, noting that the basic layout was very similar to her own. With the exceptions that Jean and Scott had a much larger bed, which was fair. And the fact that they had many knick-knacks scattered about, as well as teaching material. But, for having lived a fair chunk of their lives in this place, that was understandable.

"So…" Max trailed off, unsure what was to be asked of her. Scott's attention snapped back to her, from Jean who had quickly shuffled a pile of papers into the desk. Jean perched on the edge of the piece of furniture.

"Oh yes," he suddenly seemed to recall what he'd been thinking of earlier. "I was wondering if you'd like to rev up your bike, like mine?" he suggested, watching her reaction.

"Really?" Max's eyes were shining. Scott's lips curved into a boyish smile.

"Yeah really," he nodded. "I have all the stuff we need."

"Could we do it right now?" Max demanded, her teeth capturing her lower lip in anticipation. Scott exchanged a rueful smile with his girlfriend and rubbed the side of his neck.

"Well that was the other thing," he spoke hesitantly. Max straightened up a little. She should have known there was a catch. In her life, there always seemed to be. Scott hurriedly explained, wanting to put her back at ease. "I was wondering if you minded doing it during my senior mechanics class? See my bike was sort of the prototype and I did that all myself. But I thought the kids might enjoy seeing it done first hand and-!"

Max sighed with relief. If that was all he was asking. "Not a problem," she interrupted. "I suppose they all want something like your bike for themselves, huh?" Scott grimaced as he realized what she said.

"Oh, maybe it's not the best idea," he grunted. "Showing them all these little tricks." His hand rubbed at his neck a little more before Jean stepped forward and pulled it away to be clasped in her own.

"It'll be all right Scott," she chuckled. "Most of those kids don't even have their driver's licenses yet."

"That's true," Scott grinned and turned back to Max. "And maybe you could give a demonstration of your mechanizing skills. The kids wold love that."

"Oh, I don't know about that," Max shook her head. "Like I told Logan earlier, I'd probably touch of a mini revolt."

"Oh, I doubt it," Jean smirked. "These kids like it here. I doubt you could say anything that'd send them flying out the doors."

"Eh, you never know," Max shrugged one slim shoulder, remembering a time long ago when she had actually taken part in a fight or flight situation. She shuddered slightly, still seeing Eva's dead form on the floor. It was easy to assure herself that those kinds of things probably never happened here at Xavier's mansion. The professor was too much of a humanitarian, or mutantarian to kill one of his kids.

Jean and Scott watched the by-play of emotion flickering over the young woman's face. Or rather Scott watched, but Jean felt. She'd opened herself up just slightly, wondering what had taken Max so quickly from being there in the moment with them, to wherever she was now. She very carefully filtered out their surroundings, concentrating on the feelings and visions. It was incredibly tough work, something that she was still struggling to master.

There was a deluge of images, children, dressed in institutional-like gowns, guns, a man's face, a child on the floor, glass crashing, cold snow, running. Jean stiffened, trying to let the images flow through her. Those she could handle, but the resultant wash of feeling they evoked shocked her back to herself. She stared at Max with wide eyes, now able to see the pain and misery she locked behind a blank face, emotionless to the outside world. But if she looked hard enough, Jean could see the panic.

Max stared at the redhead, feeling a strange shiver running down her back. It was not unlike feelings she'd been feeling all her life. And it was telling her one thing. Run. And as she'd given in to it before, she made to do so now. She had no idea what Jean had just done, but the brief remembrance of where she was and who she was dealing with brought her up short.

Scott was completely unprepared when Max whirled around and disappeared through their door. It was only the resounding crash of it being thrown open and hitting the wall did he realize that she was gone. He exchanged a glance with Jean, seeing that his girlfriend was just as shaken by those brief seconds as Max had been. He brought his hand up to gently caress her shoulder and with his touch, Jean was startled out of the trance she'd been in. She looked over to him, her eyes large and troubled.

"Damn," she whispered.

So what do'ya think?" Logan asked calmly. Scott had said they'd need the professor's approval, and so he'd wasted no time in finding it. And so far the professor hadn't seemed inclined to disagree.

"Well Logan," he began calmly, "I must say that I-!" But before he could finish, he went rigid, his eyes glazing over slightly. Logan was mildly perturbed, having seen this before. Something was going on elsewhere in the mansion that needed Charles' direct attention. It was off-putting at first, but Logan could deal. It wasn't until the professor impatiently wheeled his chair away from his desk and towards the door that Logan began to wonder what it might be. He followed behind, on his guard, as he usually was when mischief abounded. Or even when it didn't. His senses were attuned so deeply that he could feel the power of Charles' gift without the visual evidence presented to him. He trailed behind, ready for anything. Attack, new arrival, troubled teen. They had had it all before.

They headed towards the front door. Charles stopped short in the beginning of the foyer and Logan glanced up to take in Max's form. His eyebrows furrowed together, his own body reacting instinctively to the tension and fear radiating from hers. He felt a low growl working it's way up his throat that he tried hard to retain. They couldn't scare her. He couldn't alarm her. Not now with her so close to the edge. His mind processed this more rapidly than average, his instincts coming forcibly to the surface. He laid a hand on Charles' shoulder, a warning to go easy, carefully. It was acknowledged with an infinitesimally brief nod.

He knew from his own experience that Charles' was trying to work in her mind. Trying to evoke a feeling of calm and assurance. He'd done it the first time Logan had awoken in the mansion. But Logan realized that like him, Max was more wounded animal than rational human. Even her clenched words reminded him of his own feelings at that confused time.

"Not safe," she ground out. "Not safe anywhere!" Her head was pressed up against the heavy wooden door. Her feet planted exactly twelve inches apart. Her hands curled against the wood, vibrating slightly as she tried to push the telepath from her mind. There was another moment of silence and Logan knew that Charles was still trying, leaning forward in his chair in an attempt to reach her. "Let me out," Max pleaded, desperation in her voice. Logan could feel the explosion coming. Her fist balled up and slammed through the door faster than a human eye could follow. "Let me go!"


	13. Chapter Thirteen

The Glory Of Manticore

Author: Restive Nature (aka Bavite)

Rated: R

Disclaimer: I in no way, shape or form own the characters of Dark Angel or X-Men or anything related to them. I simply like to play with them for a short while.

Timeline: This is a slightly AU story. It takes place more in Max's timeline, with the pulse occurring. It begins after the episode 'Blah Blah, Woof Woof" It doesn't affect the X-men much, as Professor Xavier is affluent enough to afford the best in life. It also takes place after the first X-men movie, but as I haven't seen the second one, I'll leave that stuff alone.

Pairing M/L

Summary: Once again Max is on the run. But this time she is led to a safe haven.

Chapter Thirteen

"You're free to go," the voice spoke carefully in her mind, but her thoughts were too chaotic, too panicked. Max could feel the sharp splinters of wood ingrained through her self inflicted wound. Blood dripped down her hand, pooling a moment in the crook of her wrist before splattering on the laminated floor. She tried to block out the pain, gather her mind back. She couldn't lose it, not right now. Ten years of running and hiding from Lydecker and she'd never lost it. Sure she'd been hurt, excited, tense, but Manticore had designed her to get off on the thrill of the hunt. Whether she was the hunted or the hunter.

But never before had they been in her mind. The one place that was a sanctuary, hers alone and it had been violated. Lydecker had forced her to run from home to home, even if they were only hovels on the street. He'd kept her from finding her family. Zack had too, for varied reasons, but she understood that. Lydecker and others, they had taken everything from her but her freedom and it was a pitiful existence at best. But she had been happy in it. She hadn't wanted to run this time, from Seattle and the friends she'd made and the job she had. But Zack had been right. She couldn't really afford those things. So when Logan had given her the directions for a safe house, for the mutant school, she'd thought maybe she'd find a place where despite her strangeness, she'd have a place. But despite their welcome and their acceptance of her into their midst, they'd taken from her too.

Logan watched in morbid fascination as the thin rivulets of blood trickling down her arm. He glanced down at Charles, his whole manner radiating calm and peace, the things Max was too strung out to recognize in this state. He laid a hand on the professor's shoulder, careful not to jolt him. "Let her go Chuck," he urged gently, though his hand squeezed unintentionally on the older man.

"It's not me, Logan," he replied quietly. They both turned to look over their respective shoulders. Jean was standing about mid stairwell, with Scott slightly behind her. Her eyes were slightly glazed, as Charles' had been. Logan straightened up; not needing to glance at her to know that Max's rigid posture had not changed.

"Jean," was all he said, but everyone present heard the warning in his tone. She seemed to sag a little as the resounding 'click' of the door unlocking was heard. Logan ignored the telekine to move towards Max, his voice low as he warned her that he was approaching. "It's just me Max." She trembled a little more, the closer he got and he fought his natural primitive instincts, trying not to appear as a threat. It was harder than he imagined. His nature had always been to be on the offensive. He would rise to meet a challenge head-on before common sense, if any applied, would kick in.

Finally he was able to stand at her side without her bolting again, or worse, attacking him. He stared down at her blank face, though her eyes were wide and luminous. He could smell the fear and frustration rolling off her. And again he was hit with the subtle undertone that screamed familiarity. But mixed with the fear, it was more overpowering than before. And if he didn't know better, he would have sworn that he'd seen her scared before.

There was not time for analysis at that point. Logan pushed these thoughts to the back of his mind. He moved slowly, again, every movement thought out in advance, easy so that she could see them coming. He cradled her elbow with his left hand, while the right moved to pull her hand away from the door. She seized up, tensed, but Logan let her hand loose to open the door a bare inch. He eyes dropped down to his hand around the doorknob, a mild relief encasing her. He understood. She felt the tug at her arm and stepped back from the door. Logan pushed it wide open past her and then gave her a little nudge. Her eyes held his for a moment and then she was gone.

Logan turned back to the others. Charles had a resigned look upon his face, slightly disappointed as he took in Jean. Scott was still standing behind her, quietly supportive. She hadn't explained at all what she had done or seen in Max's mind. And while he was unnerved by her method, he had a hard time faulting his girlfriend. But then again, having lived with her for so long, he was more than used to her use of her gifts. Logan however, wasn't so supportive.

"What the hell did you do?" he demanded swiftly, able to tell even before he had seen her, just by her scent that she was nervous confronting him. And if his suspicions were correct, justifiably so.

"Logan," Charles chided. He as well was aware of what Jean had tried, putting the pieces together quickly. And like before, when Jean had tried to piece together a person's past, the only thing she received were half formed images, disjointed jumping from point to point of the funny thing that formed memory. It was something she was learning to do, but she had the bad habit of picking the hardest subjects to try it on.

On silent feet, Jean came down the rest of the steps to stand before them. "I know I messed up Professor," she began, but Charles held up his hand.

"I understand," he cut off her explanation. Using their mutations was second nature to them all. He would not condemn her for her, just chastise mildly for forgetting the formalities of their moral telepath's code. Ask first. "But I'm not the one you need to be apologizing to." Jean hung her head, chewing on her lower lip before nodding benignly.

"That'll be kind of hard," Scott sighed as they heard the motorcycle roaring away, "since she's gone now."

"She'll be back," Logan assured them loudly. And once they had gone their separate ways, more softly to himself, "she will come back." But repeating it was no guarantee.

With the physical release from the mental prison that Logan had provided her with, Max was able to gain back some semblance of self. But that by no means meant that she wanted to stick around. The urge to run that she had given in to was still strong in her. But she'd retained enough of her brain to collect her bike first. If there were any way to avoid leaving her baby behind, she'd find it. She found no one in the garage and was able to wheel her bike out into the driveway. She was relieved to see that the gates were open and she wasted no time in throwing her leg over the seat and hieing herself away from the scene of Jean's crime.

The urge to flee began to change minutely once she was on the road. Away from the mansion, she worked at getting her emotions under control. What she really needed was some place to sit and think this bitch out. And when she finally rumbled into the business district, she had her answer.

Fifteen minutes later, sitting atop the roof of the highest building she could find, she found a measure of peace with the wind whipping her hair about her face. It wasn't the Space Needle, but it would do, for now. She stared down at the city, bemused to find that her normal feelings of familial comfort that accompanied a high place were absent. Instead her mind was strife with thoughts of what the mutants were in relation to her.

By the very definition, she was a mutant, as it occurred to the ordinaries. She had little doubt that the so-called normal humans of this world couldn't care less about what caused mutation, be it evolution or genetic tampering. A freak was a freak. In part of her mind, she admired these mutants for standing up for themselves. For proclaiming themselves to the world. But the rest of her, the suppressed supersoldier scoffed at their idiocy. All they had done was willingly opened themselves up for attack.

But had she been hiding for so long that it had become the only thing she knew to do? Max shook her head slowly. It was a lot to think on. Because she'd had enough of a taste of life on the outside, of acceptance in Seattle that she still craved it. It wasn't easy to set aside freedom, in whatever form it came. And she would be damned if she let another freak make her feel less than she was. Make her fear this world. Max sighed as she realized that she had a decision to make.

Class let out for the afternoon and Rogue gathered her books in her glove-clad arms. She let the others file out of the room first, as was her habit. It was easier not to accidentally bump flesh with someone if there was no one around. The others understood and gave her a wide berth. And so it was that she was on her way to meet Bobby when she came upon Logan in a contemplative mood. She knew he heard her approach, recalling enough from their personality link just how attuned his senses were. But he made no move to turn around.

"Lettin' your temper get the best of you again?" she asked with a lilt to her Southern accent.

"Wasn't me," he growled back. Most of the students would have been put off by the surly tone. But Rogue had the advantage over them all in this regard. She studied the scene before her. There was a hole in the front door, the wood splintered inwards. Logan was holding a bloody rag in his hand. Rogue couldn't tell if he was lying to her about it being he. A minor wound like that would have healed instantly. Her eyes fell to the floor.

"Ya missed a spot," she felt obliged to tell him, pointing at a speck of blood gathered at the edge of the door.

"Thanks kid," he grunted, bending over to swipe at it.

"So if it's not yours, whose blood is it?" she asked curious, but hesitant. The whole looked much too small for Logan to have rammed someone's head through it.

"Doesn't matter," he shrugged. "It's over an' done with." With that, he turned on his heel and headed in the direction of the kitchen, Marie presumed to get rid of the rag. She heard Logan muttering under his breath as he walked. But her hearing wasn't as keen as his was. And as she watched him, she was hit by a sudden surge of insight. The tension in his body, more wary than usual bespoke of a need to indulge his inner and predominant loner side.

"You're not runnin' are ya?" she blurted out. Logan slowed his steps before finally swinging around to face her.

"Why would you ask that?" he demanded a little more harshly than he meant to. Perhaps because he'd been thinking exactly that. He may have been able to let Max go that afternoon, give her the space she needed. But everything in him was screaming to go after her and make sure that she was okay. At least that's what he acknowledged to himself. Never mind the nagging worry that if she'd already run once, she was more likely to run again. It's what he would have done and in a way had been doing for over the last decade.

"You just look kinda… jumpy," Rogue finally settled on. Logan smirked. The kid had always been insightful. Naïve certainly, but she had an uncanny knack for driving straight to the heart of the matter when she wanted to.

"Yeah, I guess," he finally answered before resuming his walk to the kitchens. He didn't bother to clarify on what he was guessing, jumpy or running. And it was left to the physically isolated redhead to decide on her own. And neither proposition reassured her at all.

Logan's jumpiness was somewhat cured by the time dinner ended. After toying with the food before him nearly the entire meal, the diners heard the casual roar of a motorcycle engine pulling closer to the mansion. Holding their collective breath, they watched the professor as he cast his mind out to detect the guest. When Charles smiled tightly and nodded to Logan, conversation picked up again. Logan sagged a little in his chair. If he knew what he could say to the woman that wouldn't just potentially scare her off again, he'd leave right then. But his eye was drawn to Jean.

She'd been just as miserable, well almost as miserable, as he had. She'd seemed unable to eat and hadn't even bothered at the pretense of pushing her vegetables around the plate. Apparently she'd cast her mind in the same manner as the professor had, although with nowhere near his strength and caught the same wavelength of image he had. She pushed away from the table, half-risen before her head snapped around to face Charles. Logan caught the grim set of the professor's lips, but whatever he was telling Jean, it was blithely ignored as she completed her departure. Logan sighed as the disliked feeling of helplessness suffused him again. Damn these stubborn redheads that surrounded him.

There was no explosion. No yelling, nothing breaking. Not one of them heard the confrontation between the two women. Which meant one of two things. The first, that they were able to talk out the problem that had erupted between them like rational, mature adults. Or and the more likely, that Max had blown Jean off and disappeared from the vicinity, again. Logan would almost guarantee the second from the rigid state of the telekine's body. A few hours later as she and Scott supervised some of the kids playing board games, Logan saw her eyes constantly straying to the stairs. People would talk to her and she'd let out short, non-committal answers. So Logan figured that Max must have been up in her room.

He thought a little while on it. Everyone else was fairly relaxed, even the professor. And Logan knew that Charles had already taken a liking to Max, despite the small amount of interaction they had had. It made him wonder if the Professor had more details about Max than the girl herself had parted with. Which was a distinct possibility. But Charles would never betray those trusts unless they were a direct threat. And never in an overly confrontational manner. Which seemed to have been Jean's mistake. She'd clued Max in to what she was doing, or had done and freaked the young woman out. Finally, he could no longer take the questions and demands to see for himself that Max was back. He let intuition guide him and even made up a peace offering.

It was a little difficult to balance the tray laden down with popcorn and filled to the brim cups of hot chocolate while he knocked at her door. He braced himself for her vituperation, but none came. The door swung open, revealing a completely calm Max, her eyes widening just slightly as she focused on the tray between them.

"What's this?" she asked, her voice laced with suspicion.

"You missed dinner," he shrugged one shoulder, aiming for friendly and falling slightly short. "So I made you a snack. If you don't want it…" he trailed off, making to turn away.

"No, no," Max sighed, stepping back and waving him in. "It's okay." Logan stepped forward, looking for a place to set the tray. Max shut the door behind him and scurried over to clear off the bedside nightstand. Logan settled the tray and picked up one of the mugs.

"I'll just take this and get out of your hair then," he murmured, avoiding her eyes. He made it back to the door before she spoke.

"You can stay," she blurted out and Logan stopped. "If you want that is. I was just gonna watch a couple videos. And it's kind of boring watching stuff by myself. But if you don't want-!"

I'll stay," he broke in. She nodded once, slightly embarrassed over her babbling. "What are ya watchin'?" he asked as he moved back to the bed. He knew he was being slightly presumptive, but there wasn't anywhere else comfortable enough to enjoy the television screen.

Max smiled, slightly relieved that he was staying. She ignored how her heart jumped a few beats as he settled himself on the bed and picked up the two videos she'd chosen earlier. She turned and held them up for his inspection. Both were pre-pulse comedies. She'd been in the mood for a good laugh to dispel the resultant gloom of her crappy afternoon. "Pick one."

Logan couldn't care less what they watched. Just so long as she was relaxed and happy. And at the moment, she seemed well on her way. "That one," he grunted, gesturing to the video on her left, his right. It didn't matter. Just as long as it kept that smile on her face.


	14. Chapter Fourteen

Title: The Glory Of Manticore

Author: Restive Nature

Rating: up to Mature

Disclaimer- I in no way, shape or form own the characters of Dark Angel or X-Men or anything related to them. I simply like to play with them for a short while.

Summary: Max is once again on the run. But this time a safe haven awaits her in the form of Professor Xavier's School for Gifted Children.

Pairing: M/L

A/N- Hello again everyone. I'm finally back to this story after what, seven months of not touching it. My only excuse was a lot of Real Life stuff got in the way. To bring you up to speed, there was NaNo in November, then Chrostmas, then moving, computer problems and most recently, finding out that I'm expecting my third child this November. Morning sickness that lasts 24 hours is a real killer when trying to write. So I must say thank you to everyone who hung on and a very special thank you to those who kept prodding me about this story. This chapter is for you! 

Chapter Fourteen

Max sat at the edge of the bed, watching as Logan's eyes fluttered back and forth, under his eyelids. It was a definite sign that he was in R.E.M. She smiled once again to herself. He was definitely still dreaming. She'd noticed immediately when he'd fallen asleep the first time, a lot earlier in the night. And she hadn't the heart to wake him. So she had finished watching the movie. When he'd moved closer to her prone body, she'd quickly dismissed it as the natural instinct to search out body heat.

And so it had seemed for a while. He seemed simply content to be near her. But when the movie had ended, she reluctantly shifted away from him, trying not to disturb him so that she could switch movies. But even that slight motion had woken him. He'd come awake quickly, blinking and suddenly grinning sheepishly. It was strange to see. As if he didn't smile all that much. Or maybe even have reason to. She'd teased him, and then asked if he still wanted to watch the other movie. He acquiesced quickly.

It took him a little longer to fall asleep the second time around. And by then, Max was in no mood to move at all. She'd dozed off as well. When she'd woken, about ten minutes ago, she was content to watch him still. She wondered briefly what he could be dreaming about. As little as she knew about him, it could be a myriad of possibilities. The only fact she could really count on was that whatever it was, it hadn't prompted him to take advantage of her in her own drowsy state. And she wasn't sure whether that reassured her or not.

_The long grey corridor of the hallway he was in was so damn familiar. Logan understood on an instinctual level that he was dreaming. But an easy dream like this had been so far, was too tempting for him. He stayed in it, wondering where his subconscious would lead him. _

_ Somehow, his mind had allowed him to roam the dream, picking up clues to file away, to be examined later. He knew that he looked different, without needing a mirror to be shown that fact. He could feel it in every motion. Carefree and confident as he strolled about. He could see the military uniformness of the outfit he wore. His mind told him that they were the commonplace fatigues of the Canadian Militia. He felt the dog tags, his link with that previous life, like a familiar, comforting weight around his neck. They jangled only when he moved suddenly, which wasn't often right now. But he knew they were there nonetheless. _

_ As he came to the end of the great institutional hallway, grey, not beige, indicating a military stronghold and not a medical facility, he pushed open the access door. He found himself in the great outdoors once more. He marveled that this operation was so remote from other facilities. The hundreds of acres, planted in the center of a forest were cut off from surrounding population of citizens, who barely had an idea that the place even existed. If it weren't for the need for provisions, they'd have no idea at all. But perhaps that's what the commanders wanted. _

_ Even after being here for the time that he had, and he knew in his gut he'd been here at least a few weeks, he could see that this was no ordinary air force base, as he'd initially been told. But it didn't matter. The routine of it was enough in it's familiarity to comfort him. He sighed in pleasure as the wind picked up and drove through his hair with a light wave._

Max grinned and tried to suppress a giggle as Logan sighed in pleasure, his features lighting up in enjoyment. If he was enjoying himself in his dream, then she certainly didn't want to distract him from it. Or did she?

_Logan didn't need to see his crop of stylishly cut light brown hair, to know that it was there. A strange moment came, and he could almost see himself as he was at present, against who he had been. And he finally began to understand why once in a while, people in his present would stop and glance at him for a moment, shake their head and continue on. The similarities between his past self and present self were almost superficial at best. His old self had very few worry lines. His old self was clean shaven, his face almost boyish. His brown eyes sparkled as he sometimes found amusement in the scurrying nature of those inhabiting the world. His frame, though, was most different of all. Long and lean, wiry with a suppressed strength that often caught others by surprise._

_ The understanding of his physical self came quickly and instantaneously to Logan. For even in dream, he had a purpose and a duty to fulfill. And he found it when he caught sight of one of the few civilians connected to this base. He found himself jogging to catch up to the man, the doctor, since he was nearly all the way across the open compound. Logan knew the doctor was heading towards the med lab, to ready another round of testing. Testing of which Logan had been ordered to undergo._

_ But given his dislike of all things medical related, as he really had no need of it, Logan didn't mind this doctor. The old man, with his sparkling white hair, immaculate dress and easy going manner had struck a chord deep within Logan. His quirk of carrying a long black cane with the curiously shaped handle amused Logan where it annoyed others, for the doctor rarely needed it. In all, he supposed that it was because the man actually talked to him, took his opinion and didn't press overly hard on Logan that impressed him most. He never went beyond the testing he'd requested. He always told Logan what he'd discovered and theories that he had. And he treated Logan like a person, not some freak of nature. In truth, Logan respected the doctor, because the doctor respected him._

_ The doctor paused at the door, and looked around, catching sight of his patient coming up behind him. He smiled broadly and Logan felt an answering smile cross his face. "Ah, Corporal," the doctor greeted him easily, holding the door open for them both to walk through. "I'm glad to see you're on time."_

_ "As requested sir," Logan came back, a little sass dripping from his tones. But the doctor didn't mind. He motioned for Logan to follow him and it was with interest that the mutant did. He'd never before been in this wing of the compound. It wasn't that he'd been forbidden, just that his business here at this foreign military operation had never taken him there._

_ Once they were inside, the doctor took the lead, his steps measured. "I understand that you've received your next assignment?" he questioned gently._

_ Logan nodded. "The militia wants me back at Alkali Base as soon as possible," he sighed. There at least, he knew that things wouldn't be as easygoing for him as they'd been here. "With deference to you, of course sir."_

_ The doctor laughed. "Of course," he agreed. "Yes, yes, must humor the old coot, hmm?"_

_ Logan's lips twitched as he fought an answering smile. He could tell from the slashing tones of the handwritten orders he'd received from his own government that they were anxious to get him back onto home soil. But a promise was a promise and they had promised Logan for as long as the doctor needed him. "Do you know how much longer you'll be?" he asked quietly, wondering what he hoped the answer might be. In truth, he was very much enjoying his rather relaxed mission abroad. This time around, at least. "Then I can let them know."_

_ The doctor paused in his steps to regard the mutant contemplatively. Logan could see his mind at work as he went over what he alone knew had to be done. The doctor stroked at his cheek, a familiar gesture that Logan had come to know well. "I think, yes, about another week will do. I was about ready to move into the next to last phase immediately." He turned to look Logan full in the face, his eyes searching. "Would your commander be willing to let you come back, once your next mission is complete?"_

_ "I'm sure if you requested it, then it could be arranged," Logan assured him, confident in the old man's ability to properly manipulate those that needed it. He'd done so to get Logan to his facility in the first place. _

_ "Yes, yes," the doctor chuckled, without humor, this time. "Ask and you shall receive, hmm?"_

_ "Something like that sir."_

_ "Well, no matter," the doctor shrugged and then continued walking. "I'll work something out in the end." He turned at his first left, taking them through another broad corridor, same as all the rest. But there were differences here. Logan could hear the low hum of high-pitched voices here. It took him a moment only to recognize the sound. Children. There were children in this wing. He frowned for a moment, wondering if the compound provided daycare or some such for working parents. He shrugged to himself. As he wasn't a parent, it didn't matter much at all to him. But the doctor seemed to be headed straight for a specific room. _

_ The older looking man stopped before a door, where a soldier was posted. The young private saluted, and then stepped aside. "She's inside sir," he informed the doctor, who nodded, expecting as much. Then the private's gaze slid to the Canadian enigma, questioning._

_ "He's with me today Private," the doctor spoke easily, but with an authority that Logan rarely heard from him. It made him wonder. He knew so little about the white haired man, aside from his obvious genius on a medical level and his profound respect for all of life. Perhaps the old man had a child, or grandchild staying with him at the compound. But as Logan noticed the doctor beckon him inside the room, he figured he'd soon find out. _

_ He couldn't see anything beyond the normality of the room, a stark bedroom, much like his own. But here, there were no personal artifacts strewn about. No pictures of home or of loved ones. No clothes filling the locker at the foot of the bed. But soon enough, the doctor's voice broke into his thoughts._

_ "There she is," he crooned in a soft, reassuring voice. "There's my special little one."_

_ Logan watched as the old man stooped to pick up a child. He cocked his head to the side as he watched the scene, something striking at him as beyond odd. The little girl, at least he assumed it was a girl, since that was what the Private had indicated, looked like no other child he'd ever seen. She was wearing a long grey gown, the same color as the walls, making her blend in well. Her hair was shorn away, much in the style of a military buzz cut. But her eyes…_

_ Logan stared at the little girl who was staring back at him from over the doctor's shoulder. Her eyes, luminous and huge, the brown orbs so deep that one could almost drown in them, held nothing. There was no emotion there, no spark. Logan felt his heart tighten painfully, as he wondered what afflicted this special child of the doctor's. Was she a patient? Was she family? What was wrong with her? Could she be mentally retarded? Or perhaps an accident that had robbed her of her mind? A trauma that had taken the light of life from her eyes. And then it hit him._

_ Of course it should have been obvious from the start. No wonder the doctor had wanted him specifically. With his healing mutation, it all made sense. The doctor was trying to discover how to heal this special child. And with a silent vow, Logan promised to himself, that before he was completely done at this base, the doctor would have his wish. _

_ He realized that the doctor had turned toward him, still holding the child, who had squirmed in the older man's grasp so that Logan would also remain in her eye line. "Can you say hello to the Corporal?" Logan grinned as she ducked her head close to the doctor's shoulder and then squirmed a little more. The doctor obligingly set her down and the little girl snapped to attention._

_ The salute that she snapped off surprised Logan. Not only that she'd learned to do so perfectly, but that she was completely at ease doing so. As if she'd done so every day of her short life. He was so surprised that he responded automatically, his heels coming together with a smack as he responded with his own salute. The doctor's chuckle brought them out of their military induced moment and Logan took the opportunity to drop to one knee. _

_ He winked as he held out his hand. The little girl stared at him for a moment, before turning her head to the doctor. Logan glanced at him as well to see the doctor make encouraging gestures to the girl. A little hesitant, as if not many people were inclined to make physical gestures towards her, the girl reached out her own tiny hand and settled it in his. Logan could feel the slight tremble in her limb and correctly assigned it to mild nervousness. _

_ "What's your name, sweetheart," he asked in low, reassuring tones. Tones that one used on wild animals set to bolt. He could see it in her, only because he was so used to recognizing it in himself. And the question itself drew a startling change in the girl. Her eyes widened, as if in shock and then a pleasure settled in her eyes, making them sparkle. Logan was enchanted in spite of himself. The change came so quickly that he dismissed automatically the idea that there was something mentally wrong with this child. Her eyes held intelligence and amazingly a wonder that he himself had long lost. Her mouth opened to reply, but the moment was lost when the door opened and the Private who'd been assigned to the door interrupted._

_ "I'm sorry sir," he spoke deferentially to the doctor, "but Colonel Lydecker needs her back now."_

_ The doctor nodded. "Yes, of course." He turned to the child. "Off you go. I'll come by to see you later."_

_ The girl nodded and pulled her hand from Logan's. The mutant rose, feeling slightly disappointed that the child was leaving, before he could get any answers. But he glanced towards the doctor. Perhaps the old man would be in the mood to answer while he worked on the aforementioned next to last phase. He moved to watch as the girl followed the soldier from the room. But as she made it to the doorway, she quickly turned her head back and gave him a wide, engaging smile, and winked, exactly as he had done earlier. And then she was gone._

Logan sat upright, disturbed from his slumber, by what he didn't know. But the images that had played in his mind stayed with him. Even as his body quickly attuned itself to where he was. He looked up, startled to see that the little girl from his dream was staring down at him, that wide smile on her carnelian lips enchanting him still.

"Hey sleepyhead," she chuckled. "You gonna sleep the whole day away?"

Logan's throat went momentarily dry as the dream girl faded, to be replaced by Max. He glanced around the room, realizing with his mind what his body already knew. He was safely ensconced in Max's room, next door to his own. Where he'd fallen asleep after watching movies. He pushed himself up further, taking in the disorientation that he wasn't used to.

This wave of importance stemming from his dream threatened to overwhelm him. Had it been just a dream? He dismissed that immediately. It was more than that. It was a memory. And not just a flash, like the past haunting him. It was a full recognizable chunk of his life. It had occurred. And he needed to remember it fully, tell someone. _Charles_, his mind screamed. _Tell Charles._

Max was stunned when Logan scrambled from the bed, his hand running through his wild hair as his eyes searched her room. She was about to ask if he was okay, when the man started suddenly for the door.

"Sorry," he grunted peremptorily as he disappeared through the doorway.

Max gazed at the open door, her mouth slightly agape. Well, that just was not the reaction she was expecting at all. She scrambled off the bed, determined to discover what had him so wild eyed and nervous. She flew into the corridor, just in time to see Logan jumping down the stairs, taking them two at a time or more. And she had to admit, his reckless flight away from her, was …

Yeah it hurt.


	15. Chapter 15

Title: The Glory Of Manticore

Author: Restive Nature

Rating: up to R

Disclaimer- I in no way, shape or form own the characters of Dark Angel or X-Men or anything related to them. I simply like to play with them for a short while.

Summary: Max is once again on the run. But this time a safe haven awaits her in the form of Professor Xavier's School for Gifted Children.

Pairing: M/L

Chapter Fifteen

Max didn't spend long in her room after Logan had bolted. She briefly wondered where he might have fled to, since she didn't hear him in the room next to hers. And so, in an effort to busy herself, she cleaned up after their little movie fest. It didn't take overly long. Just picking up some popcorn kernels that had spilled and putting the movies away in their cases. She gathered up the items to take back to the kitchen and deposited them on the tray.

Once downstairs, she made for the kitchen, wondering if she were actually hungry, or if she was just trying to be hungry as an excuse for something to do, when she caught sight of Jean. Sighing internally as the woman removed herself from the chair she was in, Max resignedly kept on course.

She swept by Jean, who looked about to speak, Max's whole demeanor cold. This was something she didn't really want to deal with. But Jean was one of those types that just wouldn't let things lie. Max could only hope that she wouldn't be like a dog with a bone.

And once again she was wrong about something. After following Max into the kitchen, Jean set herself with her back against the door. Perhaps unconsciously, or perhaps not. Her whole stance was geared toward confrontation. Max set the tray on the counter and began to put the mugs in the dishwasher. She didn't speak.

To Jean, the silence was anything but. The air in the entire room seemed to crackle with tension. And even were she not telepathic, she could read the anger coming off the woman loud and clear. And Jean had thought this through enough that she admitted that Max probably had very good reason to be upset. But Jean also felt that Max might also be willing to listen to her side of the story.

"Max?" she asked softly. She was working in a cautious mode, unwilling to push too hard so that Max wouldn't try to bolt again. At least, that's what she told herself. Deep down, she knew she wanted answers. Max paused in her work, her shoulders straight and stiff as she rested her hands lightly on the counter before her. Jean licked her lips and continued.

"I know that I said I was sorry yesterday," she began, "so I won't keep repeating it." She glanced away for a moment, trying to figure out how to phrase her next words so that she wouldn't offend the other woman. "I would like the chance to explain myself, if you'll let me."

There was a harsh chuckle from Max that surprised Jean. She waited until Max finally explained. The brunette turned her head slightly, to talk over her shoulder.

"It's funny Jean," Max sneered. "You said you were sorry, but what exactly were you sorry about?"

Jean was ready for that. She knew exactly what she had done wrong. "You know I'm a telepath, right?" She waited for Max's confirmation. "So I see things. Sometimes it's stuff I don't mind, sometimes it's stuff that I'd rather not know."

"And where do my thoughts fall?" Max asked lightly, though Jean could see the rigidness of her body.

Jean contemplated that question carefully. In truth, she was intrigued by the other woman. And so she decided that honesty was her best policy. "Actually, it's both." That caught Max's attention and she turned to face Jean, her arms crossed as she leaned against the counter.

"What does that mean?" she demanded.

"Precisely what I said," Jean scoffed lightly. Max was trying to delay things. They were going to talk about what Jean saw sooner or later and Jean preferred sooner. Not only to satisfy her own curiosity, but to get past this block between them. "There was nothing overtly frightening in what I saw, so the images didn't bother me." Max nodded, understanding that much. But what Jean said next really got to her. "It was the feelings that got to be too intense."

"What?" Max's eyes grew wide. As far as she had understood, a telepath saw things. So Jean should have 'seen', which was bad enough. But now, the redhead's words had Max wondering just how deep in Jean had gotten.

"It's all right," Jean tried to soothe her, one hand held out to calm Max. "You have nothing to be ashamed about. With the amount of fear and the blood and everything else, I don't blame you for how you reacted."

"Well thank you very much Dr. Gray," Max drawled derisively. "So glad that my feelings meet with your approval."

"I didn't mean it that way and you know it," Jean snapped. "And I didn't do it on purpose."

"Oh?" Max growled her hands clenching and settling on her hips. "So you just mentally raped me by accident?"

"Actually I did," Jean flared, though she flinched at Max's harsh description of what she'd done.

"Right!" Max rolled her eyes. She was about to turn back to the counter, or better yet, leave, when Jean forestalled her.

"I had no control over receiving your thoughts," Jean explained hastily, sensing that Max had had enough. "They were these big glaring neon red danger signals that practically threw themselves at me."

Max's jaw dropped as she searched for something to say to that ludicrous statement. Finally she settled on repeating it. "They threw themselves at you?"

Jean grinned ruefully. This was something most people didn't understand about her power, and the professor's. It was something that had happened with Logan too. So now she attempted to make at least one person get it. "When a memory like yours is powerful enough, it tends to stay with a person. It makes a sense imprint in almost everything that person says or does." She paused to let Max take that in. Then hesitantly, quietly, she continued. "I'm guessing that that memory is one you think of nearly every single day of your life."

Max nodded reluctantly. "It is," she confirmed softly.

"You were a child, weren't you?" Jean wondered. And suddenly any spark lingering in Max's eyes had disappeared.

"I was never a child Jean," she denied with quiet vehemence. "That place where I was… you had to grow up real fast."

Jean nodded, understanding more of that feeling than Max knew. "But you were young, weren't you?"

"Yeah," Max admitted, then stared at the redhead, puzzled. "But you already knew that, I thought. I mean, you read my mind. Or what my mind 'threw' at you."

"Actually I don't know," Jean shrugged. "What I got from you was images of kids, the snow, a gun, and things like that. And the feelings associated with each image." She smiled widely. "Actually, it was all such a rush; I could barely make heads or tails of it."

"So you don't…?" Max hesitated to finish her thought.

"I don't actually know anything," Jean finished for her. "I could come up with some suppositions, I guess. But I'd rather you tell me." Max opened her mouth to protest that idea, but Jean was already ahead of her. "But I know that that won't happen any time soon. I broke any trust that you placed in me, whether by design or by accident. And I understand that I need to earn that trust back before we go any further."

"Jean," Max tried to interrupt, but the telekine wouldn't let her.

"You asked me what I was sorry for and it's this," Jean declared. "I'm sorry that I wasn't quick enough to stop the backlash of your memories to me and close it down before I received anything. I'm sorry that when you wanted to run, I didn't let you. And I'm sorry that you have this burden to carry."

Silence reigned in the kitchen for a few minutes. Max finally relaxed herself, able to read the sincerity in the whole of the other woman's body. "I'm sorry too," she offered easily, but she didn't as Jean had just done, catalogue each thing. They were all too intertwined in one another, the reasons, to be easily explained. But that was okay. Jean understood. She nodded and jerked one thumb over her shoulder.

"I'm going to get to class," she told Max. "I'll see you later."

It was with an almost euphoric high that Jean headed towards her classroom. Her smile certainly let Scott know that things had went well between her and Max. Better than Jean had thought they would. So when he joined her on the slow stroll to their respective classrooms, an answering smile was already on his face. He understood what Jean had needed to do, to talk to Max, but he asked anyway.

"How did it go?" he murmured quietly, conscious of the teens and children roaming around them.

"It went well," Jean replied succinctly, entwining her hand with his. Scott reflexively tightened his grip, pleased that her morning was off to a good start.

"Did you get everything straightened out?" he probed further. To his secret dismay, when he and Jean had talked over what had occurred when Max was in their room, she hadn't given any specifics. Scott knew better than to pry, but like the rest of the universe, he was curious as well.

"We did, to a degree," Jean decided. She smiled derisively then. She knew her boyfriend too well. "And quit trying to dig. What we said was private. If Max wants you to know what happened, then she can tell you."

"No no," Scott laughed, hastily trying to cover his butt, even though he knew it was a waste of time. "I was just wondering if you'd patched things up enough to where Max would still want to go to New York this weekend."

"Oh," Jean nodded. "The professor is okay with it then?"

Scott nodded. "Barring anything unusual happening, we're good to go. Storm said that she didn't mind pulling weekend duty."

"That's great of her," Jean enthused. She slowed her pace even more, as she noticed that students had already congregated in her classroom. She stopped entirely as an idea popped into her head. "Why don't we see if Storm wants to do something similar next weekend? She needs a break too. And as for Max wanting to go, well, we'll just have to ask her."

"That'd be fine," Scott agreed mildly. "And that's a good idea, about Storm. I'll ask her later." Jean nodded and Scott gave her a quick peck on the cheek, squeezed her hand once more, before he continued on to the class he was teaching that morning.

Max hung back as she watched the two lovebirds part at the classroom door. She was quite sure that Scott hadn't noticed her following them from a respectable distance back. She meant to follow them. And as she'd hoped, Jean had been circumspect. She wasn't quite sure if Jean had been aware of her. If the telepath's abilities were leaning towards the use that Professor Xavier leant them to, as in locating people wherever they were then she figured that Jean probably did know she was there.


	16. Chapter 16

Title: The Glory Of Manticore

Author: Restive Nature

Rating: up to R

Disclaimer- I in no way, shape or form own the characters of Dark Angel or X-Men or anything related to them. I simply like to play with them for a short while.

Summary: Max is once again on the run. But this time a safe haven awaits her in the form of Professor Xavier's School for Gifted Children.

Pairing: M/L

Chapter Sixteen

"So what do you think Chuck?" Logan growled as he paced around the professor's study. He had just finished relating all the details of the strangely vivid dream that he'd had. And to his utter grief, the professor had schooled his features to the calm mien that Logan so hated. The professor was aware that it bothered the wild man to a degree to be presented with a cool façade that he had difficulty deciphering, but Charles did it anyway. Unknown to Logan, it was more for himself than it was to keep information from other people.

"I think," Charles answered calmly and he moved papers around his desk, "that it was a very interesting and detailed dream."

"That wasn't what I was askin'," Logan growled.

"I know," Charles replied with a trace of amusement. "But you asked what I thought and I gave you an honest answer."

Logan paced a few more steps, realizing quickly that Charles was going to make him ask. After all that time combing through his memory, months and months ago, to discover why the mutant Magneto might want to attack Logan, Charles had become surprisingly reticent about discussing Logan's past. His excuse was that Logan needed to discover his memories on his own. But still, he had to try.

"Do you think it was a memory?" he demanded, stopping his pacing in front of Charles' desk. He leaned on the desk. It was a slightly threatening position and it would have had a lesser man than Charles a little apprehensive. As it was, Charles just glanced up at him before turning his attention back to the homework that he'd graded and would be returning this morning to his first class.

"Perhaps it was," he offered mildly.

"Perhaps?" Logan repeated incredulously. "Come on," he growled, thumping his fist down on the solid oak wood. "You're the big power around here. You've got to be able to tell me something!"

Charles sighed resignedly, letting a paper settle before he answered the angry mutant. He carefully molded his features to calmness once again before looking at Logan full in the face.

"We've discussed this before Logan," he counseled gently. "I can't just pick up a thread of your memory and follow it through to conclusion. It's a tangled knot that needs to be carefully worked through. One wrong move and the whole thing could collapse." Logan opened his mouth to interrupt but the professor wouldn't let him. "Sit down please."

Logan looked as if her were going to protest, but finally, he sank his behind into the closest chair. "You've got to be able to tell me something." He paused, thinking back through what he had told Charles about the dream. There was no detail that he had left out.

"And therein lies the problem," Charles said, causing Logan to startle in surprise.

"Stay outta my head Chuck," Logan growled, "unless you're invited first."

Charles laughed, the inconsistency of the man before him greatly amusing him. "Come in, get out. Go away, come here," he chuckled. "And you were thinking out loud Logan. Naturally I responded."

"Oh, sorry," Logan was chagrined. He smiled ruefully, understanding what made the professor laugh. But the response was automatic. His life had been in shambles and sometimes his mind was the only thing he could keep that was totally his alone. It was natural that he'd want to keep it private. It was an instinct that moist everybody on this earth wanted to exercise. "But you were saying."

Charles nodded and then continued with the previous line of thought. "You memorized every detail of your dream, to tell me. This was thoughtful of you. But that creates the problem of true memory. So instead of this now being a dream, with the possibility of being a memory, it actually is a memory to you."

"Because I remember it so well?"

"Precisely," Charles agreed. He spread his hands expansively across the desk. "And while I am unwilling to sift through the memory, I am more than willing to discuss the possibilities of what this could be and to help discover if there were any truths to this dream."

Logan mulled that over. To have the professor's brain power on this was better than nothing. "All right," he agreed. "Do you have time now?"

"I don't," Charles informed him gently. He glanced up at the clock on the wall opposite the desk, behind the rows and rows of school desks. He preferred having the student's attention on him and not on the time. "Class begins in a few minutes. Perhaps this evening?"

"Okay," Logan agreed as he rose from his seat. "Right after supper." He headed for the door, hearing the professor's acceptance in his mind. He deftly avoided the students on his way through the hallway. And he wasn't such an oddity anymore that any of the student's stopped and stared.

It was Logan's attuned senses that let him know that Max was in the immediate vicinity, because his mind and eyes certainly weren't paying attention. He stopped short before bumping into her. And once again, with his thoughts still on his dream, he had the strangest sense that he somehow knew her. And remembering back to the instant in the morning, where she and the girl from his dream had been superimposed in his mind, it was easy to understand why. Certainly they had a few things in common. Similar brown eyes, with a wide-eyed knowledge of things unspoken of. A similar complexion. And just that quiet ability to unnerve him. Not many people had that last ability, but around this school, they had it in spades.

"Hey," Max greeted softly.

Logan smiled; slightly embarrassed now for the way he'd taken off in the morning. It was faster than his escape from the occasional one night stands he indulged in over the years. "Hey."

Max, felt the comfort level, if there was such a thing, disappear from both of them almost as soon as they got within a few feet of each other. She made to move around him and continue up to the room she'd been given. But Logan reached out with a hand, landing on her arm.

"I'm uh, sorry about this morning," he offered. She nodded and said nothing, so he continued. "It's just; I had a really vivid dream that might have been a memory. And I needed to talk to Chuck before I forgot anything."

Max felt relief course through her. It wasn't anything she had done. She could tell that he was hiding something from her. But then, it was probably the same something that he hid from everyone. "Did it help to tell him?" she asked, interested for many reasons, concern for his amnesia only a part of it.

"A little," he admitted. "It got the dream straight in my head. But that's about it." He proceeded to tell her Charles dream into memory theorem.

Max laughed about it. "It makes sense," she muttered. Seeing his slightly perturbed face, she cocked her head to the side. "Memory is a tricky thing. That's why the fish is always bigger than it really was, when someone tells you about catching it."

He understood that really well, having heard some pretty big fish tales himself. He laughed as well and if it was slightly rueful, neither one mentioned it. "So…" he drawled, wondering how he was going to fill his day until he was supposed to meet with Charles. He supposed he could sit in his room all day, chewing over old things that he hadn't figured out in the years previous. Or maybe he could find something a little more constructive to do.

"So?" Max echoed, teasingly. Logan smiled and she answered with one of her own.

"Do you want to go to town with me?" they asked together, and then laughed again when they'd realized what they had done.

"I thought we could bum around," Logan offered, "maybe see the things you didn't see the last time we were there."

"I thought that there wasn't that much to see," Max teased. "But sure. I have a couple things to pick up, if you don't mind?"

"Like shopping things?" Logan said with a soft groan. Max shook her head yes and his groan grew. "Oh I suppose I could go shopping with you." But then he was quick to amend the deal. "But then we get to do something I want to do."

"And what would that be?" Max asked, her voice pert, though her mind was roaming in directions far better left to the bedroom.

"I think you might have to wait and see," Logan smirked back. He looked thoughtful for a moment. "Are we going to need a car, or is it little stuff?"

Max thought for a moment. "Well, I wanted to pick up a dress and a few accessories. The car might be better."

Logan nodded, though he wondered how much shopping they might have to do. Especially since she'd already mentioned a dress. "Do you know where you need to go?"

"Anywhere that they sell good clothes for an evening in New York," she smiled widely. Logan's eyes widened as he realized the purpose behind the trip.

"You still want to go?" he demanded a little brusquely, his face thunderous as he remembered what Jean had done.

"I do if you do," Max laughed and the tone immediately calmed him down. Without having it said, he knew that Max and Jean had somehow managed to clear the air. And while he was singularly unimpressed with Jean's actions, this whole mess was between them and like most males; he knew to stay out of it. But a little clarification wouldn't hurt.

"I'm game," he assured her. "But what about Cyke and Jean? Do you still want them along?"

"That'd be fine. Jean and I managed to ah, clear the air, this morning," Max shrugged. Logan nodded, relieved that it had been dealt with. "But I got the impression that they'd go no matter what, since they don't often get the chance."

"They don't," Logan confirmed gruffly, though in truth he wasn't absolutely one hundred percent sure about that."

"And there's nothing to say that we have to spend all our time with them, right?" Max added. Logan fought to keep the wolfish grin from his face. No there was certainly no rules about this coming weekend, except one. And that was to enjoy themselves, come what may. But first, there were things to take care of. And if this weekend was on, then maybe some new clothes for himself were in order. And who better to ask for help, than the woman he was looking to impress.

"Let's get moving then," Logan headed towards the staircase, wanting to get his jacket and wallet. Max followed behind, intent on getting her things as well. They parted at his door and Logan dropped his voice, one hand on the doorknob. "So I'll see you downstairs in a couple minutes?"

Max turned and slowly backed away, heading for her room. She winked audaciously and smiled. "It's a date!"


	17. Chapter 17

Title: The Glory Of Manticore

Author: Restive Nature

Rating: up to NC-17

Disclaimer- I in no way, shape or form own the characters of Dark Angel or X-Men or anything related to them. I simply like to play with them for a short while.

Summary: Max is once again on the run. But this time a safe haven awaits her in the form of Professor Xavier's School for Gifted Children.

Pairing: M/L

**A/N- This chapter is dedicated to Blackwolf393, a prize in my Christmas Fiction Contest. Congrats!**

Chapter Seventeen

"Ready darlin'?" Logan asked.

Max felt the last drops of her cola slipping down her throat. She lowered the pop can and looked to the man who'd just spoken to her. His voice was low and gravelly, no doubt from the dust accumulated on their drive up to New York. They'd stopped at the halfway point to grab something to drink. Granted it wasn't a long trip, but it was a small moment. As soon as they'd arrived, Logan had hopped off the back of her bike, asked what she'd preferred and signaled to Scott, who'd pulled in behind them with the car.

He'd returned from the small Mom and Pop convenience store, giving Jean and Scott their drinks first before returning to her side. She'd drank quickly, not sure how fast the others would be. She knew that Scott wouldn't need to fill up, nor did she. They'd used the private reserves of the school gas tanks before they left. And gas was ridiculously high at this store.

"Just about," she answered with a smile. Logan nodded as he pitched his empty Dr. Pepper can in the garbage can. She wondered if he was as eager to get back on her motorcycle as she was. There were few things in her life that could compare to the freedom of the ride.

"I'll tell Cyke," he muttered and moved away to do so. Max watched him cross the parking lot, avoiding a car pulling out with ease. He moved with a lithe grace that she hadn't seen since her youthful days of Manticore. It was easy to see, but difficult to categorize. The closest analogy that she could come up with was a powerful animal on the hunt. Always aware of everything around him. Maybe that was why she was enjoying this motorcycle ride more than others she'd endured with passengers.

The more she thought about it, the more she knew she was right. In days gone by, whenever she'd given a ride to a friend, she'd always had to be very careful. Most people didn't understand the theory of riding a motorcycle. It was not, contrary to what a lot of people thought, like riding a bicycle. There was physics involved that the general populace gave no thought to. As a result of that ignorance, Max generally told most people just to hang onto her and let her do the work. There were a few times she thought she'd take a spill when someone decided to help her out by leaning into curves, or getting too nervous and doing just the opposite. But that was not true with Logan.

Somehow he sensed every move before she made it on her baby. As if he understood how the bike had become a natural extension of herself. Of her soul. For every move she made on the road, he was there countering in just the exact manner that kept them balanced perfectly. To her, it made the ride that much more enjoyable, more sensual. A chill ran up her back as she acknowledged that. It had been a long time since she connected with another being on a deeper, more esoteric level. But true to her nature, she shunted it aside, unready, unwilling to analyze it. For now,she would just enjoy it while it lasted.

"What are you thinking about?" Scott asked, slowly running his finger around the rim of the iced tea that Logan had provided him with. He'd been surprised by the other man when they'd pulled off the road for a pit stop. Scott didn't think that Logan had ever paid attention to what he liked to drink. But the wild mutant had it down to brand and flavoring. It could have been a fluke, but Scott didn't think so. Underneath that devil may care attitude, he knew that Logan was an extremely perceptive… animal, for lack of better word. Every movement, positioning, word said, it was all noticed and cataloged somewhere in that damaged brain of his.

"What?" Jean asked distractedly when she realized that Scott had been talking to her. He chuckled and she dragged her eyes away from the scene that was playing out in front of her. It wasn't much, just Logan and Max standing beside her motorcycle, drinking their respective beverages.

"As if I needed to guess," Scott teased. Jean sighed and mentally rolled her eyes. "Thinking about Max and Logan?"

She was thankful that he'd included Max in there. She didn't want to have to go through this again with him. She nodded. "A little," she admitted.

"What were you thinking about them?" he asked,m now that he had a subject to warm up to. She glanced again at him, then turned to stare straight ahead. "Jean?"

"Oh,it'll probably sound silly," she huffed quietly. Scott said nothing, just patiently waited. Jean picked at a non-existent thread on her pants. "I was just wondering which one of them was dominant?" she got out in a rush. She almost wished she had been looking at Scott when she heard him choke on his iced tea. She turned her head a fraction to late. He was wiping off his chin now.

"That doesn't sound silly," he declared. "That sounds… kinky. Why were you wondering about that?"

"Not that kind of dominant," she giggled, looking younger than she was. Scott decided that embarrassing himself slightly in private was bearable if it brought smiles like that to her face. "Although it might apply somehow. No, I meant who is the more powerful of the two."

"But Max isn't a mutant," Scott stated. "Or at least the professor said she wasn't."

"I know that," Jean agreed. "I'm talking every day normal human and mutant terms. Dominant and submissive in instinctive ways."

"Human and mutant, huh?" Scott tried to join in, but he had inly the vaguest notion of what she was referring to.

"Meaning which one of them has the control of the relationship," Jean continued. "I mean, I always considered Logan to be a dominant personality. Just look at the way he clashes with everyone around him at some point or another."

"I thought that was just good old fashioned pig-pigheadedness," Scott grinned. Jean threw him another little look.

"But now," She continued after a moment, "with Max here and seeing how he is around her... It makes me wonder."

"Wonder what?" Scott asked gently, eying their traveling companions again.

"Well," Jean sighed, "he seems to be constantly deferring to her, allowing her to take the lead. And did you ever think that Logan would be content to sit back and let someone else drive?"

"Never really thought about it," Scott murmured, his lips pursed thoughtfully. He did so now, a slight frown marring his face. He tried to fit in Jean's current supposition with what he himself had seen.

"So that makes me wonder," Jean concluded, leading the conversation back around to the original point. "Which one of them is dominant."

"Maybe they both are," Scott blurted out. Jean turned her head towards him once more and cocked her head to the side, waiting for an explanation. "I mean, you said that Logan clashes with a lot of people. He's certainly clashed with Max over a few things. We've all heard them... But, I think maybe..."

"What?" Jean encouraged softly. She could see that Scott was rapidly forming this opinion in his mind and while he understood it there, he couldn't verbalize it as well as he might like until he had more time to think it over. But until she was invited in, she'd let him say it.

"Do you think that maybe they're both dominant and passive when they need to be?" Scott pointed out. "I mean, Logan takes the lead when the subject is something he knows about. But he steps back if he has no experience with the matter."

"That's a good point," Jean nodded.

"And maybe there's a territory thing going on," Scott grinned. "Although not much of one. I mean he had no problem stealing my bike."

"But maybe he has a little more respect for Max's property because she's female?" Jean grinned as Scott nodded. He clammed up for a moment as he watched Logan approaching from across the parking lot. He took another hasty sip of his iced tea as his free hand rolled down the window, waiting for the other mutant to get there.

Logan squatted slightly at Scott's window, including both Scott and Jean in his glance. "You guys about ready to go?" The couple glanced quickly at each other. Yes, essentially they were, they could certainly carry on their conversation in the car as Scott drove.

"We can go whenever," Scott replied easily with a grin. "But if Max needs a little more time..."

"Nah," Logan gave them a broad grin. "She really likes riding that bike of hers."

"And I'd say you don't mind it overly much either," Scott teased. Logan's eyes narrowed as he searched swiftly for a perceived slight, but Scott's easy smile and open face convinced him that there was no harm intended. "But you know, if either you or Max get tired, we've got room in the back seat."

"I'll pass that along," Logan grunted. "But I doubt Max'd take you up on it. Nobody drives her baby but her." Scott nodded as Logan clapped on hand on the door of the driver's side as he raised up. He gave Jean a grin and both of them a wave as he moved back towards Max.

Scott waited until his window was completely rolled up before he picked up the previous thread of conversation. "And maybe, did you think that Logan's attitude isn't so much about being dominant, than it is about protection?" Jean's head whipped around to stare at her lover. "I mean, it seems to me that the force behind Logan's personality is that he doesn't ever want to let anyone he cares about get hurt. If that person or persons are in danger, that's when, forgive me, but the animal within takes over. You know? If it doesn't involve someone he cares about, then it doesn't involve him. And when he's not involved, I don't think there's any dominance or passivity in him at all. He just is."

"And you think he cares about Max?" Jean clarified, stunned by the depth that Scott understood the other man who had admittedly, until very recently, been a rival.

"Based on all evidence gathered," Scott grinned at her as he started up the vehicle. "I'd say out of everyone here, with the possible exception of Rogue, and that's because she's still a kid, I'd say he cares most about Max."

Jean nodded slowly as she thought those things over. Remembering and cataloging certain little incidents and behaviors, comments and looks. It was starting to fall into place. She watched as Logan enthusiastically climbed onto Max's bike behind her. Again, it wasn't something she had thought that she would see of Logan, but he was doing it. His larger bulk blocked Max from view and Jean could see how he was curving his body slightly around the other woman's. Almost as if he were protecting her. Saying with actions that he literally had her back. She smiled softly. This was an interesting new development.

"So I have a question," Scott asked jovially as they pulled back out onto the highway.

"What's that?" Jean asked, a little distracted.

"Between us,' Scott sounded even more amused, "which one of us is dominant?"

Jean's head snapped around to look at her boyfriend even as there were warning lights and censors going of in her head that warned of treacherous territory here. What could she say? "Um, I refuse to answer that on the grounds that I don't want to hurt anybody's feelings."

Scott chuckled as he reached to settle his drink in the appropriately designated space and then caught up her hand. "In other words, you think you're the dominant one and you don't want to make me upset, even though since I'm a man, I'd probably think that I was the dominant partner."

"No," Jean frowned. She had the quick sense that Scott had just thrown the gender bias in there to throw her a little off balance. "What I mean is, you have given me a lot of things to think about today with your astute observations and I would rather reorganize my thoughts in private than end up arguing about this with you when I'm not sure exactly what I think anymore."

Scott turned his head just enough to catch her hand as he lifted it to his lips. "Very diplomatic answer there, Dr. Gray," he chuckled.

"They're all ready to go," Logan reported as he returned to Max's side.

"All right," Max nodded as she slid her leg over the seat, aligning herself properly to allow room for Logan behind her. "What d'ya say we kick it up a notch?" she demanded with a grin. A slow, lazy smile spread over Logan's face before he carefully took his place behind her. As he fit his body against hers, realizing that she had left precisely enough room for him, no more, no less, he leaned forward.

"Darlin' we can go just as fast as you wanna," he breathed huskily into her ear, noting with satisfaction the shiver that she swiftly brought under control. With both legs still on the ground, he nevertheless slid one arm around her midsection, careful where he let his hand lay. Too much one way or another and it'd be a distraction. Logan knew he had little to fear by way of accident. Hell, he'd had a few over the years. But he really didn't want anything happening to Max. But still, his hand against her body felt awful good and he wasn't going to give that up easily.

Max started up the Ninja, checking the entryway to the gas station to make sure her way was clear. She edged out onto the road, going slowly so that they both could balance themselves as needed. Once they were going, she brought her legs up to the machine, resting comfortably so that her legs wouldn't cramp as she straddled her baby. A moment later, she felt Logan imitate her, though his feet rested back from hers. And that was all. Thighs torso and arms were all aligned against her body, molding themselves against her, though he kept his face a few scant inches from hers. She'd deliberately left her hair inside her jacket so that it wouldn't be blowing and whipping into his face. Another moment and she felt something, his breath, words perhaps, whisper across her cheek. She felt more than heard what he wanted.

"Open 'er up."

With a joy filled smirk, Max revved the throttle, tearing away with startling accuracy from Scott and Jean's car. The laughter that rumbled through the body behind her brought a swift satisfaction to the playful kitty cat inside and she laughed as well. It took her seconds only to discover that like the previous rides, Logan could definitely handle this. She added a little more speed, nibbling her lower lip a little as the thighs cradling hers tightened in response.

Yeah, this trip was definitely off to a good start.


	18. Chapter 18

Title: The Glory Of Manticore

Author: Restive Nature

Rating: up to MA

Disclaimer- I in no way, shape or form own the characters of Dark Angel or X-Men or anything related to them. I simply like to play with them for a short while.

Summary: Max is once again on the run. But this time a safe haven awaits her in the form of Professor Xavier's School for Gifted Children.

Pairing: M/L

A/N: It's been a while folks! Wow. So, obviously, I will be continuing updates of this story, but I can't guarantee and regularity to it. So I hope you enjoy what I have for you and I will try to give it the attention it deserves, since I still love the idea of this story so much.

Chapter Eighteen

It didn't take them long to reach the hotel once they had entered New York proper. Max had simply pulled over before the edge of the city limits and waited for Scott and Jean to catch up with them. She had noticed in her rearview mirror that Scott had tried to keep up with them directly after the gas station, but after about ten minutes, he had eased off. Still, he wasn't that far behind them.

He didn't slow as he passed them, but Max was easily able to pull out behind him and stay with him on into the city. It helped that there was a good break in traffic flowing in and out of the city. Scott knew the route to the hotel fairly well, since he had stayed there at various times in the past, either with the professor, with Jean or with the rest of the team in various forms. At one point, there had been valet parking for the fancy well known chain hotel, but that had fallen by the wayside after the pulse. They only catered to that need if there was a big function happening in the hotel, such as a ball, thrown by the elite of New York, or a conference going on. And there wasn't anything like that going on this weekend, so they were on their own, for parking. But Scott also knew that there was underground parking for hotel customers across the street. He slowed enough and indicated the turn well ahead of doing so and Max turned right after him.

Talking with the employee in the booth, controlling entry and exit to the parking structure, Scott purchased two weekend parking passes for the vehicles. While it was great to have the vehicles there if needed, it actually made more sense to use the still abundant cabs that littered the greater part of the city. The headache of driving in the city was still prevalent, despite the devastation the streets had seen. New York had a reputation for surviving disasters and coming out of it bigger, better and stronger. But still, there was a lot of devastation to repair and if one had only visited rarely or not at all, would the changes seem sudden.

Scott pulled away and noted there was no hesitation on Max's part as she followed after them. He figured that Logan must have heard his conversation with the parking attendant and informed her that Scott had purchased her fees as well. They managed to find two parking spots together and the sudden quiet of the engines in the cavernous underground area was startling. Used to this, from flying and riding his own motorcycle, Scott gathered up the remains of the iced tea that Logan had purchased for him, saved just for this reason. The long swallow left, achieved the purpose of helping his slightly plugged ear drums into "popping" and the noise level returned to what it should be. He also had gum, should it have been necessary. As he climbed out of the vehicle, he noted that none of the others seemed to be having trouble with the noise level.

With the key for the trunk in hand, he made short work of removing the luggage, with Logan's help. He bit back a smile, similar to the one he wore when they had packed the trunk, at seeing Logan's battered duffle bag, that he had borrowed from Rogue. Max had been sporting a similar bag, earlier in the day, but Storm had offered to lend Max her own luggage. Max had remarked that it would probably be better for the dress that she had purchased for the weekend and gracefully aqcuiesed. The soft ivory set was familiar to Scott again, since Storm had travelled several times with it, with them.

Logan however, was not familiar with the luggage sets, but he still unnerrngly picked up Max's bags and his own, leaving Jean and Scott's to the other male. Scott finished grabbing the last small bag before shutting the trunk, making sure it was latched. Scott wondered if there was going to be a power struggle, such as what he and Jean had been discussing earlier in the car, when Max moved to take her bags from Logan. But the other man simply muttered that he could take it if she wanted. Max seemed to settle quickly on a compromise that she carried the shoulder bag, while Logan shouldered the duffle bag and hefted up the large suitcase. She gave him a quick thanks and caught up with Jean, also carrying her own shoulder bag and Scott's, since they had packed their clothes together, so there were no his and hers suitcases.

Max blinked only slightly as they exited the underground parking structure that Scott had led them into. She hadnt even thought to ask what they would do for parking, assuming that with a hotel, there had to be something. But she was relieved that her motorcycle would be protected while she wasn't there. The imposing structure across the street, she was sure, would not enjoy the placement of vehicles of any size within the lobby or God forbid, the rooms themselves. And Scott was being sweet, paying for her pass as well as his own. She did mention it to Jean, knowing that she would thank Scott later, in private. Jean just smiled and told her that it made more sense to take a cab, especially when they were going to be out and about all over the city and that drinking was most definitely going to be involved. Max didn't bother to tell her, that with her transgenic metabolism, drinking wasn't a hindrance like it was to a normal human.

She glanced back at Logan, over her shoulder and saw the smirk on his face as he and Scott brought up the rear of their party. She grinned conspiratorially with him, figurng out quickly, that with his healing mutation, well, he probably had little to worry about with drinking as she did. Probably even less.

The doorman that opened the doors for their party was thrown thank-yous from each of them, but the sight that greeted Max caught her up short for just a moment. Golden and glowing, the lobby of the hotel was precisely what she had expected, but still, caught her by a moment's surprise every time she saw it.

"Problem?" Jean asked in a soft, low voice, meant for her alone. Max shook her head and picked up her pace for a half step so that she wasn't impeding the men behind her.

"Not at all," she chuckled, sure that Jean would understand. "It just always takes me by surprise, places like this."

"Places like what?" Jean sounded curious, but not overly so, like this was just an ordinary conversation between friends. And perhaps that was what the redhead was striving for. There was still some tension between the two women, but both were working in their own ways to overcome it.

"Places that go on, like the pulse never happened," Max replied easily. It wasn't a criticism, merely an observation.

It could have been easy to say that the devastation was worse on the West Coast, when the pulse had occurred, but that was untrue. The nature of the beast was that it had attacked not an isolated area but the network of the nation. Everything had been interconnected, through their computerized lives and by attacking that, the devastation shook everything that was dialled in. So that not only was America torn down, but their allies that hid under the blanket of the supposed superpower of the world's protection and leadership.

"Well, money covers a lot of sins," Jean grinned. It wasn't that she was blind to it all, Max was sure, just that enough time had passed to recover and for certain blasé attitudes to reassert themselves. It was the same for Max, who had actually been grateful for the pulse. It made it so much easier to disappear from the radar of the government agency that had been searching for her. And if it sounded callous when she thought it, she knew in her heart that it wasn't, but when people were concentrating on their own miseries, it was easier for her turmoil and troubles to be ignored by the masses. And that was exactly the way she needed it. Survival was much easier when it was just her ass on the line. That was a lesson she was relearning, having settled in Los Angeles and then Seattle for much longer than she should have.

"Doesn't make the sins go away though," Max rejoined as they crossed the immaculately kept parquet tile floor. Jean veered off slightly and approached the concierge station, leaving room for Scott and Logan. Max would have been confused, but she knew that the reservations made were under Scott's name. Which was smart, since the emlpoyees knew his name. And thinking such, she wasn't surprised to see him greeted with a modicum of polite enthusiasm of a repeat customer.

Their business was swiftly taken care of and Max, briefly sighed a slight breath of relief. The concierge had handed Scott four key cards in their little gold envelopes, with scrolled and scripted printing.

They deposited their bags on the cart brought to their sides by the bag boy who came to attention the moment the concierge glanced his way. Max grinned when Logan gave the boy a gruff once over, but refrained from saying anything. They all followed after the boy as he led them to the bank of several elevators. The gathered inside for a smooth ride for what Max saw was the seventh floor. That wasn't too bad. She wondered what her view would be like. When they were let off, the oppulence that coated the lobby was contnued in it's only slightly understated way in the halls. She overheard Jean murmuring to Scott that after they settled in, they could reconvene and see what everyone wanted to do this afternoon. And that was fine by Max.

The bag boy halted about mid way down the hallway from the elevators and Max noted quickly, where the other exit points were. Ingrained habit, she told herself, dismissing the thought, even though the infromation was stored in her brain immediately. With what had to be a master key pass, he swiftly opened the the two neighboring doors on the right hand side of the hallway.

"The single suites," he murmured without glancing at the members of the party. There was only a moment's pause as Max realized that there must have been three rooms, not four as she had assumed, but that made sense that Jean and Scott would share a suite. The two extra cards were for the same room, but one ofr each of them then. He then turned and moved to the door across the hall, opening it for Jean and Scott. "The double suite," was offered in the same muted tone.

"Your choice darlin'," Logan's voice cut across the silence, though he wasn't loud. Max grinned as she lifted up her shoulder bag and moved into the room closest to her, on the left, just like back at the mansion. Either way it didn't matter to her. All hotel room swere essenstially the same in that there should be a bed, bath and television. Anything else was cake. Or frosting, depending on your social stature in this world. With an answering grin that made Max wonder if Logan was thinking similar thoughts, he picked up his duffle bag. He probably wasn't one for all this pomp and circumstance, like her.

Max entered her room and found that it was just as she had expected. Though a little more grand. The bedroom was separate from the rest of the room. There was indeed a bathroom and Max could see that the tub was huge and she promised herself that she would definitely take advantage of that. It was still a luxury in her world to have that much free running hot water. There was a nicely appointed loveseat and matching chair across from an armoire that held the entertainment center, meaning the television and the mini bar.

Max took this all in as she made her way across to enter the bedroom. The bed was queen sized, which almost made her snort in amusmenet. It wouldn't be seeing much action from her, but it wouldn't hurt if and when she decided to take a nap. She noted that the bell boy had grabbed her suitcase, having deduced it was hers, as it matched the shoulder bag she had taken and had very politely followed as far as the door to the bedroom.

"Where may I put this ma'am?" he asked when her attention turned back to him. Max chuckled at being ma'amed at her age, but then, she had been in the same boat when she was delivering packages at Jam Pony. If one wanted a tip, then politeness was the name of the game.

"On the bed please," she directed. The bell boy hopped to, even as Max was pulling some bills out of her pocket. She withdrew a five from the bundle and pressed it into his hand. He smiled widely at her and then stepped out of her way.

"All of the hotel infromation is in this packet," he told her, gesturing to the leather covered folder on the dresser. "If you need an outside line, please dial "9" on the telelphone to reach the concierge. Also, our room service is open from five am until eleven pm. I hope you enjoy our stay with us Miss Guevara."

"I'm sure I will," Max responded in the same polite uninterested tone that she was given. Professionalism always had it's place in the world, she supposed. The young man moved off and she heard him move next door to her, giving Logan the same rundown. She had to giggle though when the bell boy was brushed off with a "got it kid, thanks."

Max left her door to the hotel room slightly ajar, but lef the bedroom door wide open. She knew that they would be getting together to plan the afternoon. She herself had no plans really, aside from the need to find herself a fence to sell the jewelry she had purloined from earlier heists. Thinking of that now, she moved over to the discreetly appointed safe settled under the nightstand table beside the bed. As she read over the instructions, she snorted to herself in derision. These models were so ridiculously easy to crack that there was no way she would ever keep anything in one. But it was a good distraction. With another smile, she set the process of locking up her "valuables" in motion. That way, if a thief were to somehow enter her room, they would make straight for the safe and be distracted with the thoughts of what might be ensconsed inside, which in this case, was absoliutely nothing.

Instead, Max went with the simple innovation of removing a lower dresser drawer ans taping the slim package that held the loot against the back of the dresser pannelling. Knowing from experience that most run of the mill thiefs simply pulled the drawers out to rifle through, starting at the bottom and working their way up, would not pull the drawers all the way out to search the furtniture structure itself. Experimenting a bit with the drawer, she found that the added bulge did not impede the drawer and once it was replaced, nothing appeared out of the ordinary.

She had returned to her luggage and was just removing the dress from the case, that she had chosen to bring to wear when they attended the little jazz club that Scott had gone on about, when she heard the thumping at the outer door that indicated someone was knocking at the door. Max made the adjustments of the skimpy straps on the provided hanger and letting the material slip into the closet, before she stuck her head out into the main room. She saw Logan lounging in the doorway, waiting for her to answer and as soon as she appeared, he straightened up.

"You ready for the pow wow across the hall, darlin'?" he asked gruffly.

"Just need to finish putting up my clothes," Max gestured with her thmb over her shoulder. "Have a seat if you want," she invited and was pleased to see him stroll comfortably into the room, pushing the door shut behind him. It didn't bother her, since she had left the door open as she was expecting him, Jean or Scott at one point or another and with his words, it was apparent where they were expected to gather as a group.

There wasn't really much left for her to do, other than put her few extra changes of clothes in the appropriate drawers. The shoulder bag, she carried to the bathroom and deposited it on the counter. She did note that her hair, while for the most part, protected on the ride up by the expediency of tucking it into her jacket, still had the slightly windblown appearance to it. She quickly dug out her brush and ran it through her tresses a few times until the tangles and knots were out and it was restored to neat order. Or as neat as her curls would allow. She set the brush beside the bag and exiting the bathroom, clicked off the light switch.

"All set," she announced, noting that Logan was simply leaning against the back of the sofa, instead of having taken a seat, as she had invited him to do. His eyes had been following her progress and she was surprised to find that she didn't mind that. She knew that she had been built to be beautiful by Manticore and so she had put up with attention from both genders, for various reasons, all her life. But this was the first time that such avid interest didn't annoy or bother her. It was unsettling though, in a way that she had only come to associate with her heats. But, she mentally shook her head. She wasn't due for a heat for quite some time. Once again, it was an interest that could potentially lead to trouble and she was on the whole, unceratin how to handle it. Perhaps that was why she was so invested in the weekend.

Living in the mansion with the others and Logan, even for the short time she had been there, had once again provided structure and order. It wasn't her own, but it was in place for the students there. It was a reassuring thing, as much as she didn't like to think about it. It was possible for regular humans, or utants, as the case may be, to desire and subscribe to order. It was nature's tendency to abhor a vacuum, or chaos. Everything had a rhyme and reason to it. So it was okay for Max to indulge in it without feeling that she was succumbing to Manticore's clutches in any way.

But at the same time, she had settled into that order with no fuss, no hesitation and that on some level scared her. She didn't understand what it meant for her, to find something so easily. In truth, it did scare her on some level because to her, nothing lin life ever came easily. And this, aside from Jean's unwanted and invasive foray into her mind, was easy and inviting and comfortable. Logan most of all. And for Max, who had been living on the run for the last ten years, she could easily see the dangers of letting any of her guards down.

What she wanted out of this weekend, she supposed to herself, was the chance to judge Logan away from the confines of the maniosn. Despite the fact that he didn't seem to fit there in the same way tat she didn't, being a mutant, he had more claim to the place and the people, than she herself did. So there was a comfort there for him. And Max wanted to know if it was the comfort of the place tat had led to her comfrot with the man. Or if the comfrot of the man was a tangible entity of it's own. And then, maybe then, she would know what to do, how to handle what was essentially, brand new territory for her.

Logan seemed to abe no hesitation in allowing her to be first out of the door and it was only a matter of steps to be infront of Jean and Scott's hotel room door. Before she ould decide how to act, Logan had reached out and rapped smartly on the dooe, two sharp knocks. Scott answered almost immediately, attesting to the fact that they were waiting for the other half of the vacationing foursome. He smiled widely and opened the door to accomadate their entry. Logan hung back a moment to allow Max entry first.

She could tell in a glance that their room was just as well appointed as her own was. But that was nether here nor there.

"Jean'll be out in a minute," Scott explained as he shut the door behind Logan, jerking his chin in the direction that Max assumed to be the bedroom. "She wanted to hand her clothes bnefore they became too wrnkled."

"Not a problem," Max grinned. She was well versed by now, in the mystiques of the feminie wardrobe. She was also well aware how often men came away from this just as puzzled as she had once been. She wondered idly how long Jean and Scott had been together that it was no longer a mystery to the male, but accepted fact. Of course, it may have een something he had learned in the course of nother relationship. Not that it was any of her business.

Before a topic of conversation could be brouht up, Jean emerged from the bedroom, smiling just as widely as her boyfriend was. "So," she began as she took a seat on the small loveseat in the main area of the room. "What are we planning for the rest of the day?" She glanced around, including Scott in that. "We still have a lot of the afternoon left. We could do some sight seeing or shopping. Maybe get dinner."

"Or take in a show," Scott suggested easily, his eyes also trained on the duo across from him. Max chanced a glance at Logan who had relaxed back into his seat. His eyes were on her, questioning and she wondered moentaarily iof he was waiting to hear what she wanted to do so that he could make his own plans or if he was content to go along with the crowd. That was another thing that puzzled her.

There had been moments of standoffishness between them and Max had tried hard to believe that it was his issues with personal things and not anything to do with her. And she could assume that to be the truth, but she had seemed to be the one he avoided. But then, she also didn't know what his patterns of behavior had been before she had arrived at the school. And from the suttlebutt going around the school among the children, who didn't seem to know Logan much better than she herself did, all his recent behavior ws strange. But then, Logan always had been slightly awesome in a way. And not the hero worship invoking kind either. Except in a few female cases.

"Which one were you thinking of?" Jean asked softly of the other man not in Max's scope of thought right then. Scott settled back slightly.

"There's a revival of Chicago that's close to being sold out," Scott recited apparetly from memory. "And a couple others that we can get last minute tickets to. I had to reserve the tickets in advance and if we're interested, call the agent back as soon as possible."

Max frowned just slightly. She knew the story of Chicago, as her old roommate Kendra had the home video version of it and they had watched it one night. The elaborate outrageousness of the show had amused Max at the time, but it was not soemthing she was interested in seeing again. She was a much more hands on person, that preferred doing to sitting and watching. Maybe if it were one of those old time murder mystery dinner theaters, where the audience got to participate, then she could go for it. She sighed a little and then had to smile herself as Jean chuckled.

"Not your cup of tea?" the redhead asked archly. Max wrinkled her nose and shook her head.

"Not really," she murmured. "My old roommate had the video and I have the story memorized, given the number of time she watched it. I doubt I would enjoy it much."

"Well," Scott offered quickly, "there's a different feeling to it altogether when you see it performed live. But please, don't feel pressured."

Max continued to grin at the duo. "I actually like the sound of getting out and doing some sight seeing. It's been so long since I was last in the area. And stretching my legs a little would be a good thing."

"Well, we're up here more often than that," Jean chuckled, "so cnsider this your weekend for fun and we're just along for the ride for the most part." She slanted her glance to the man seated in the other seat. "Any thoughts Logan?"

"Whatever you want is fine by me," he answered, most laconically. Max caught a gliont of mischievous humor in the other woman's eyes before Jean clapped her hands down on her thighs and nodded.

"Dress shopping on Fifth Avenue it is then!"

Max couldn't contain her laughter a both males groaned and rolled their eyes. Jean joined in just half a beat later and leaned over to sneak a quick peck on Scott's cheek.

"Actually Max, why don't we hed out and see where we end up, sight seeing, shopping, whatever?" Jean suggested, which was fine by Max.

"And us poor, lowly males?" Logan drawled, smirking at the fun the girls were having at their expense.

"You can do precisely the same, or stay put watching the sports channel," Jean shrugged one shoulder. "Just as long as you meet us for dinner and then we can go from there. I think I would like to go out to the theater." She turned to Scott. "It's been a while."

"That's a plan then," Scott nodded. He glanced at Logan and Max. "If you don't mind, that is."

"Don't need a baby-sitter Stretch," Logan grumbled, only slightly under his breath.

"What he said," Max agreed, gesturing with her thumb in Logan's direction. Scott nodded and rose from his seat, making his way to the room's telephone.

"Italian okay with everyone tonight?" Jean murmured. She seemed to beliee she had assent when no one made an outcry against it. Max didn't mind either way as she wasn't a picky eater. She pulled out her cell phone and a telephone book, looking it seemed, for a specific place. Once she had found it, she called quickly for evening reservations, which she managed to get, though they would have to be there at precisely seven on the dot. She promised it would be done and just like that, their plans for the day were accomplished.


	19. Chapter 19

Title: The Glory Of Manticore

Author: Restive Nature

Rating: up to R

Disclaimer- I in no way, shape or form own the characters of Dark Angel or X-Men or anything related to them. I simply like to play with them for a short while.

Summary: Max is once again on the run. But this time a safe haven awaits her in the form of Professor Xavier's School for Gifted Children.

Pairing: M/L

Chapter Nineteen

Jean had been quiet in the cab ride over, Max noted. She'd been staring out the window, barely noticing the traffic, so inured, it seemed, to the sights, that they passed by, uncommented on. She had taken the trouble to hail the cab, chatting amicably with Max while they waited. But once they were in and had a quick discussion about where to shop, with Max deferring to Jean's more recent familiarity of the city, and then she had fallen silent.

Not that Max minded, as she was a little preoccupied herself. She'd been scoping the city since they had first pulled in earlier. Being only twenty miles from Westchester, it was a little close for fencing stolen items, but it was a large enough mecca that it would be all right.

But so far, Max hadn't picked up any of the clues she was familiar with as to where they were operating. But then, with the hotel that Scott had chosen and the fact that Jean had directed the cab driver to a little boutique a ways off 5th Avenue to do some shopping at, Max figured the area was too high class to pick up any law breaking, overt or otherwise. She sighed internally as she was trying to figure out how to get out of all the group activities she was sure this group had planned to entertain her. Maybe she'd be able to ditch Logan that evening for a little while. Or if worse came to worse, she could always head out after the others had gone to sleep. It wasn't at all unusual for Max to be out and about on her motorcycle. She did however, find it interesting that the sector Police that she had grown used to on the West coast were much more lax here. And more so than she recalled when she had visited the city when she was younger. But perhaps, since the threat had developed on the other side of the country, New York had gone about the business of rebuilding with it's usual aplomb, allowing it's denizens to once more police themselves to a degree.

Whatever it was, Max appreciated not having to wear a sector pass, to be able to come and go just when and how she pleased. That would make her little mission that much easier.

At long last, the cab driver pulled over to the curb and with a lack of joie de vrie that people seemed to go out of their way to portray cabbie as having, simply announced the total. Jean already had the cash in hand and was passing it over the partition with a murmured, "keep the change." The cab driver did tip his hat before stuffing the money in a lock box and writing something on a clipboard, even as with his other hand, he was reaching for the cb radio that was squawking now.

Jean exited the cab first and Max followed closely after, having made up her mind that she would worry about finding a semi-reputable fence later. The redhead ahead of her was taking up too much of her thoughts to allow Max to concentrate on much else. It was when Jean almost walked into an old parking meter, that Max felt she should say something. After she had of course, steered the other woman around it.

"Is everything okay Jean?" she asked with a modicum of concern. She might not be besties with the woman, but that didn't mean she wanted to see her get hurt.

"Hmm?" Jean seemed to come back to herself, the faraway look in her eyes clearing up. "What was that?"

"Is everything okay?" Max repeated, slower this time, watching Jean's eyes carefully for any signs that there was a problem, or trouble.

Jean opened her mouth and Max was sure that she was going to protest, but then she closed it with an audible pop and chuckled. "I'm sorry Max," she apologized softly. "I was kind of half expecting this."

"Expecting what?" Max was puzzled. Jean shook her head, glancing down the street, and not quite sure what Jean was worrying over, except perhaps exposing some part of herself to the passers by, took the other woman's elbow and manuevered them closer to the building itself. Jean made no protest and actually seemed appreciative as there was a small break in the pedestrian traffic.

"Several months ago," Jean explained swiftly and quietly as Max leaned in a little closer, "something happened and I really had to... test my limits." Max nodded, realizing that she was referring to her telepathic abilities. "Unfortunately, sine then, I've been having trouble, well, putting the walls back up. As you well know."

"Ah," was all Max said. She glanced to her right, seeing another gaggle of teens progressing towards them, and immediately turning back when Jean winced. "They're um, being loud?"

"Like a bullhorn," Jean muttered and then laughed. She looked down at Max's face. "You know how everything sounds perfectly clear when you're a good distance away, but if you're right beside the person using it, it's kind of distorted and staticky?" Max nodded, remembering several occasions when Normal had broken out his old trusty. And with her transgenic hearing amplifying sounds that normal humans couldn't hear, well she could certainly empathize with that. "And then you take that being with every person, they've each got their own bullhorn, and it's getting a little..."

"Migraine in the making?" Max asked sympathetically and Jean shook her head.

"Already there."

"I'm sorry," it was Max's turn to wince. "We can go back if you want?"

Jean shook her head in the negative. "No, it wouldn't be any better." She sighed. "The professor and I have been working on it again, but we're not making much headway, dealing with this."

"What have you been trying?" Max asked with interest, wondering how two psychics would calm the raging sea around them. "If you don't mind me asking."

"The professor has been trying to find, well, I guess the right frequency would be the best way to explain it," Jean offered, biting at her lower lip as her brows furrowed, trying to find an acceptable explanation. "The right frequency in my mind so that I can filter properly." She smiled at Max's puzzled look. "Too high and I get nothing. Too low and I bust right through it naturally."

"Okay," Max nodded, "what else?"

"Um," Jean seemed surprised by the question. "Nothing really."

"So you don't like, I don't know, do meditation exercises or something? I don't know," she chuckled, slightly embarrassed at feeling out of her depths with the topic matter.

"I haven't had to do that since I was a child and that stuff first started," Jean admitted with a rueful laugh. "I've moved beyond that. Or at least I thought I had," she muttered. Max nodded again.

"Okay, well first things first," she decided, taking Jean's arm again. "Let's get away from the crowd as best we can. Then you can do a little quiet reflection if possible. If that doesn't work, we can always try something else. Okay?"

"All right," Jean agreed, feeling desperate to get away. She hadn't told Max the complete truth. Yes, she'd been having a little difficulty with her telepathy and with her telekinesis since the events at Liberty Island those months ago. But this time, this day, she had brought it on herself. Since the news had come in about the possible mutant serial killer had cropped up, Jean and Charles had decided that they would use this trip to New York to try and suss out some preliminary information. Charles had warned her against her initial plan, but Jean had stupidly been stubborn enough to go through with it. She had opened herself up, letting random things roll through her mind from other people, tuning her mind to certain key words in hopes that it would help them pinpoint a location to start looking in, especially as Charles had had no luck using Cerebro.

And now Jean was paying for the folly of being the stubborn redhead that usually served her in good stead.

But it was a blessed relief in ways, once Max had opened the door and led Jean inside where there were so many fewer people hanging around. Once the door closed, it was like something muted the majority of the voices swirling around her mind. Jean realized that her relief must have been audible by the indulgent smile on Max's face. They were immediately approached by a saleswoman, smiling widely and Jean tensed up as the expectation seemed to roll off of her.

"Good afternoon ladies," she greeted genially. "How may I help you today?" Thankfully Max took control immediately, saving Jean the inconvenience.

"Hello," Max smiled widely. "I hope you don't mind, my friend has developed a bit of a headache on our way here. Car fumes, you know," she explained blithely, lying through her teeth and Jean was amused at how easily the woman was eating it up. "Is there anywhere she might have a quiet moment, perhaps a glass of water?"

The woman nodded and gestured back to the dressing rooms, Jean knew, having frequented this boutique before. Jean and Max followed after her and Jean took a seat on the velvety upholstered chair in one of the cubicles while the young lady hurried to retrieve her some water.

"This okay?" Max asked quietly. Jean nodded, knowing that this was about the best she could get at the moment. "Hey, I was thinking," she began hesitantly and Jean glanced up, "if those techniques from when you were younger worked, why not try them again? You know, work your way up."

"I suppose," Jean sighed. "It couldn't hurt." Max nodded and stepped back to let the girl through with the water.

"Okay," Max was all smiles again, including the saleslady in her carefree seeming manner that Jean knew was a cover. "I'm going to look around a little and I'll check on you in a few, okay?" Jean nodded and Max pulled the curtain close, further muting the other minds and Jean raised the icy cold glass to her forehead. Simple meditation. If only it were so simple.

It was perhaps half an hour and Jean was amazed to see that Max's suggestion had actually worked. It had taken some attention and concentration, but eventually, she had gotten herself under control again. Perhaps it stood to reason in a manner of thinking logically.

Jean was so used to just being at the level that she was at. But like a pitcher that choked, or a football player that flubbed an easy kick, and she really needed to stop watching the sports channel with Scott, she was over thinking the steps she already knew. Going back to basics, to what came naturally now that she didn't have to think about, she was able to get a modicum of relief that allowed her to step it up again.

After resting a little and feeling instinctively that she was in much better shape now than she had been when she'd first entered the store, she stood from the chair to find Max and at least thank her. She passed the saleswoman that had helped her and murmured a thank you to the woman as she handed her back the almost empty glass of water. As she pushed the curtain to the change room aside to duck underneath, she noted that there was still a hum in the back of her mind. Thankfully muted from the roar that it had been. And while not thrilled with it, it was much more manageable.

She found Max at a rack of minidresses, musing over them, while she already had one or two items slung over her arm. She noted Jean's approach before the redhead could say anything.

"Doing better?" she asked quietly and Jean nodded.

"That's really cute," Jean smiled, gesturing at the dress Max had pulled out. Black and white swirling patterns.

"Not really my style," Max mused. "But my old roommate, she'd love it."

"The flamboyant kind?" Jean asked, though it was not said unkindly.

"Throw sex pot and totally kind hearted into that and it's Kendra in a nutshell," Max agreed, letting the dress settle back into the mass of clothing around it. "I did find some things for myself, though." She held up a burgundy colored top, that while it had some thin straps to hold it up, had off the shoulder ruffles. Max had paired it with some dark black jeans and Jean nodded.

"Those would be nice if you and Logan are serious about just hanging out instead of joining us at the theater," Jean noted. She had to hide her smile at Max's face screwing up in a perturbed look. She turned her attention to the rack of clothing as well, pulling out various dresses that caught her attention.

"The theater just ain't my bag o' fun," Max chuckled. "One of my old friends," and here she didn't mention her old mentor Moody, who had been the leader of the gang that she'd been part of back in Los Angeles in her younger days, "always said that I had no patience for the finer things in life because I was always too on the go, living my own."

"I can understand that," Jean nodded, musing over a blue outfit.

"But I mean," Max continued, thinking of all the times that Logan Cale had plied her with food and wine and certain material incentives to continue working for him aside from her day job, "there are certain perks that come with the high life that I don't mind. For the majority of it though, count me out. Give me some clean clothes, a place to rest my head and money for beer and skittles and I'm good."

"What about your motorcycle?" Jean asked suddenly, mirthful as she quirked a smile at the brunette.

"Ha, me and my baby are a package deal," Max snorted softly as she fingered the price tags on the items she already held.

"Kind of 'love me, love my ride'," Jean could fully understand. With Scott's predilection for working over any vehicle he could get his hands on, she had an idea of what she was speaking of.

"Yup," Max agreed quickly. "Gimme those things and I'm as happy as a pig in mud." She thought at first that Jeans laughter was from her antiquated simile but the woman shook her head.

"That sounds remarkably like Logan," she noted. "He doesn't mind swinging by the mansion for a meal or shower or somewhere to rest, but before long, his legs get restless."

"A real highwayman, huh?" Max smiled. Jean, knowing better than to go spilling things that she wasn't sure if Logan had shared with her or not, refrained from commenting that he was out and about looking for any clues he could find of his past. "Well, I'm gonna go try these on."

"Okay," Jean smiled and knowing with feminine intuition this time that Max would not need or solicit her opinion on her clothing, remained behind to continue rummaging through the latest offerings. It was only minutes later that she had several items of her own and had followed after Max.

She had just shown her pickings to the salesgirl and was admitted once more to the change room as Max stepped out from the cubicle she'd chosen in the outfit and was looking pretty nice. A little step up from what she had lounged around the mansion in, from what Jean had seen.

"That looks really good," Jean scanned the other woman's body with a critical eye. "Although, do you have boots? Because otherwise you're going to be walking those hems off."

"I do," Max nodded calmly as she smoothed the hem of the shirt. She twisted around to look in the full length mirror while Jean chose another cubicle. "So, if you don't mind me asking, how long have you been at the school?"

"I was invited to attend when I was just a child," Jean told her as she pulled the curtain shut and began the process of changing into the first outfit. "Scott and Storm, as well as some others that have since moved on made up one of the first classes that Charles offered."

"And it's just expanded since then, huh?"

"We recruit," Jean explained, "and there's also been some word of mouth from our attending student's family member's if they know of other children that meet our entry criteria." She heard Max's chuckle and realized that she was quite aware of the code words that Jean was using.

"And then of course are the ones that we find and... rescue," Jean continued. "Like Logan and Rogue, or Kurt," she finished and then added as an after thought. "Although we didn't so much rescue Kurt as just gave him an alternative that he couldn't say no to."

"Well, at least they've all found a place where they can be safe and feel accepted," Max commented, ignoring the lump in her throat that the thought evoked. She deliberately turned her mind away from that. "So Logan really had to be rescued?" she chuckled, remembering that he had mentioned that before. "Something tells me that that didn't sit well with him."

Jean, still behind the curtain of her cubicle did not have to hide her smile as Max's attention kept turning back to the enigmatic loner. "It didn't," she replied, her voice slightly muffled as she pulled the dress over her head. When it was clear, she revealed, "especially as it was Scott that was the one doing the rescuing."

"So they knew each other before?" Max asked and since her voice had moved, Jean supposed she had gone to remove the outfit she had tried on.

"No," Jean shook her head. "They just didn't like each other right from the start, though I think I had a part to play in that, to a degree."

"Oh, how so?"

Jean sighed. "Well, when I was... examining Logan after his accident, I have to admit that I was quite fascinated with his physiology and of course Scott... took it the wrong way."

"Jean?" the other woman drawled and Jean could hear the amusement in her tone. "Were you being inappropriate with your patient?" She was sure that Max was teasing even as she blushed. Because... well, Logan was a very virile man.

"No!" she exclaimed, her eyes wide as she denied. "I mean... no!" She took a moment to calm herself. "I meant, when I was examining his x-rays, and then, then I showed him up to his room and we were talking about his memory loss and he asked... He asked!"

There was a very heavy silence and Jean grimaced, wondering what was going through Max's mind, because she knew that things would be much worse in many ways, if she tried to look for herself.

"I'm waiting," Max finally laughed. "He asked what?"

"Oh," Jean was slightly surprised. "He asked me to read his mind. After I gave him a demonstration of my other... power," her voice lowered for obvious reasons.

"So what's so wrong with that?" Max pondered. Jean took a moment to straighten out the dress that she'd managed to get on and zip it up before she stepped out of the cubicle.

"Scott walked in," Jean sighed. "I was quite startled with all the confusing images and a little off balance and Logan, of course he wanted to know what had happened. What I... saw."

"Was it... no never mind," Max began. "None of my business." She emerged then, dressed in her street clothes and smiled hesitantly at Jean. "That's coolio."

Jean glanced down at herself consideringly and then turned to the mirror. "It is nice. I think Scott would like it." The hemline was slightly shorter than she was used to wearing, but her legs were nothing to be ashamed of. She put in the definitely to consider pile in her mind.

"So I take it Scott taking things wrong, were ones you just mentioned?" Max continued their conversation. Jean nodded.

"Sort of," Jean shrugged. "I mean, yes, I have... had a little crush on Logan," she admitted with another blush, and she caught Max's eyebrow quirk up at that, "and he made overtures a few times, but I love Scott." The simple admission was one that had Max nodding her head. "And it's not like I'm alone in the Logan crush club," Jean chuckled. She could see in the mirror as Max tilted her head consideringly. "It seems like every female at the school that's experienced puberty has crushed on him. He is really..."

Max started laughing at that, but Jean thought she heard a note of force behind it. She wondered why that was.

"Yeah, he is really... something," Max finally agreed.

"And I mean, thinking logically about it," Jean went on, "it makes sense, our... crushes. You know smart girl and bad boy. I mean, they made bad teenage angsty movies about it, right?"

"I suppose," Max agreed quietly.

"And besides," Jean went on, wondering if she had inadvertently made Max feel bad about herself, which had not been her desire at all, "after you showed up, Scott seemed to think he had nothing to worry about anymore."

"How so?" Max asked, her face definitely showing her confusion.

"Well, in all his time that we've known him," Jean smirked, "Logan isn't really the type to stick around. And while he, like I said, made his interest known to me, he never really made an effort to get to know me beyond surface things. With you, he's stuck around, chased after you, defended you and spent more time with you than anyone aside from Rogue, who he's very close to. Like an uncle or older brother, with Rogue. You? Not so much." Jean frowned as she wondered if that made sense to the other woman. "And then of course, there's the confusion and the defensiveness and the jumpiness when he's around you."

She heard a very definitive, yet dainty snort from the other woman. "That's just cause he can't figure out what makes me tick."

"Exactly," Jean smirked. "He's getting' a little crazy, if you know what I mean?"

"Not really," Max shook her head. "I guess I'll just have to take your word for it."

"You'll see," Jean chuckled. "Because you know, I may be a doctor and a burgeoning telepath, but that does not mean I've cornered the market on sanity. As you've seen yourself."

"True that," Max chuckled. "All right, you ready?"

"Yeah," Jean smiled at her reflection. She was ready.

Later, in the evening, Max was taking a moment to herself. She and Jean had both purchased their chosen outfits from that sweet little boutique and then had done some more window shopping. It was a relief that their chat had done them some good and Max had been able to relax a little more around the woman. But the things that Jean had told her about Logan had continued to swirl around her mind. Was all this that she was feeling, was it just like the others... just a crush?

Because truth to tell, she didn't really know all that much about Logan. Yes, she reacted viscerally to his body, his, as Jean put it, virility. And he'd had a reaction to her as well. But just because their bodies seemed to like one another didn't mean much. That was just biology and it could be ignored. She knew that. And what would happen if Logan had ever found out the truth about her. Being a mutant was one thing. Being a freak experiment created in a lab with bits and pieces of animal sliced in for fun, was completely another. Mutants were obviously supposed to exist, since their mutations came from within, from their own advancing genome. Max couldn't claim that.

If there was one experience that she never wanted to actually experience, it was that of seeing someone she cared for, learning the truth about her and turning away. Of looking at her like the trainers had when they were younger. Like they were something... sub par or horrific. It cut too close and once again she resolved to keep her secret as well as she was able. Though, knowing that with the powers these mutants exhibited around her, she may not be entirely successful in that. She could only hope that they would respect her privacy and keep it to themselves.

She heard the knock at her hotel door and moved to answer it. It was Logan on the other side and she gave him a tight smile. She was startled only a little as his eyes drank her in and upon reaching her face again, had softened. His eyes were dark as he regarded her and she felt a small shiver run up her back. Despite looking so relaxed, there was something primely predatory about this man before her.

"Hey," he greeted, slouching against her door frame. "You ready?"

"Yeah," Max nodded. "Just let me grab my coat."

She turned away and moved over to the sofa, where she had thrown her coat over the back after returning from her and Jean's shopping trip. She could feel his eyes on her and that little shiver wasn't leaving.

"You look real nice tonight," he complimented quietly as she straightened up with the jacket in hand. Max bit at her lip and then smoothed her face out as she turned to rejoin him. She glanced over his chosen outfit as well. Dark blue jeans, and his usual layered t-shirt under a long sleeved shirt with a leather jacket over top. But the shirt seemed more crisp than usual.

"You too," she returned and then gestured to his shirt. "That new?"

"Yeah," he nodded as he plucked at the material. "Marie thought I needed some new stuff. Pretty much what I would have chosen for myself," he shrugged. "So I figured why not?"

"Marie?" she questioned. "That's Rogue's name?" she recalled and Logan nodded again. She pulled her jacket on and made sure that she still had her key card as Logan pulled her door shut for her. And like Jean had said earlier, Rogue had been one of the ones with a crush on Logan, though to Max's eye it was heavily mixed in with some hero worship.

They continued to make small talk as they headed to the elevator, to meet Scott and Jean in the lobby. When they reached the ground floor and found the other couple close by, Max was startled at the knowing grins the other couple were throwing her way. She noticed that Logan had barely glanced at them before turning back to her to ask her opinion of the city so far. She murmured something noncommittal as they all continue walking to the front door. Jean, just ahead of her, smiled at her boyfriend and then threw Max a wink over her shoulder before turning to face forward again.

Max turned her face up to see that Logan was grinning down at her and she had to ask him to repeat what he had just said. He chuckled and told her that he he had asked if she had changed her mind about the theater or was she still of a like mind as he.

"Theater schmeater," she groaned, "so not my bag. Already told Jean that this afternoon."

"All right," Logan nodded as he took the door where Scott was holding it for Jean. "After you," he offered and Max had the sense that he was being polite, but also using the moment to check out her ass. Guys usually did, especially when she showcased it in skintight jeans like she was wearing that night.

And as she swiftly twisted her head around to catch him at it and let loose a chuckle when he leveled a wicked grin at her, not at all embarrassed at being caught, she decided that it didn't matter. Who cared what Jean said about crushes. She was allowed, right? She might not have the smart chick vibe like Jean did that had attracted her share of male admirers. But just like some guys liked that, there were plenty of guys into the bad girl. And that's exactly what Max could be.

A kick ass girl with the heart of gold, she mused. And it seemed to work, if she'd held his attention this long. And as she felt Logan's broad hand on the small of her back, as a cab pulled over at Scott's waving behest, she decided that she could be perfectly happy with that.


	20. Chapter 20

Title: The Glory Of Manticore

Author: Restive Nature

Rating: up to R

Disclaimer- I in no way, shape or form own the characters of Dark Angel or X-Men or anything related to them. I simply like to play with them for a short while.

Summary: Max is once again on the run. But this time a safe haven awaits her in the form of Professor Xavier's School for Gifted Children.

Pairing: M/L

Chapter Twenty

Dinner went well. There had developed a sort of easy camaraderie with the easing of the tensions between Max and Jean. That had, in turn, allowed Scott and Logan to relax a little as well. Though the two men would never be close friends, there seemed to be some sort of mutual respect making itself known in subtle oneupmanship and verbal taunts that had less sting than prior days.

Conversation flowed easily as Jean introduced different topics and they compared their view points on the city they were in, taking in each other's unique viewpoints. None aside from Logan had much chance to travel through Seattle and eagerly sought Max's views on how the cities were alike and different at the same time. When Max revealed to the males that she had lived in Los Angeles when she was younger, after the pulse, talk included that as well.

It was at that point that Jean found out about Max's knowledge of known, greater and lesser, artworks.

While not as versed as Max, they found another point of common ground as they referenced their favorite art works and Max told them about some of the prizes that Logan Cale kept as investments and some that he simply liked the look of.

Eventually, Scott and Jean had to return to the hotel to change for their evening at the theater. Logan had held his hand out to Max to help her up from her chair and as they trailed after the couple, shot her an amused glance.

"So, how're you holding up?" he asked, sounding slightly off. Max grinned up at him.

"Aside from feeling stuffed from that meal," she decided. "I'm good."

"Yeah, it was good," he nodded. "Did'ja feel like heading back to the hotel?" he wondered. Max glanced up at the discreetly placed clock behind a potted fern that had grown quite rapaciously and then frowned.

"The night's still young," she shrugged. "Normally about this time, I'd be heading out with my roommate and friends to hang for a while."

"Well, we could do that,' Logan was quick to suggest and Max again had the sensation that he was appraising her.

"Sure," she agreed with a small smile. She herself didn't want the evening to end. If there was one thing she hated, it was sitting around on her ass, with time on her hands. "Was there somewhere specific you wanted to go? Or..."

"Why don't we just wander until we see someplace we like," Logan suggested. Max nodded her agreement and after retrieving her coat from the coat girl, they exited the restaurant to see Scott and Jean waiting at a cab.

"You coming?" Scott asked lightly. They both shook their heads.

"We're gonna wander around a while," Logan informed them. "We'll probably see you tomorrow."

"We're still on for MoMA, right?" Jean directed towards Max. The girl nodded. The couple had expanded on the idea of the field trip to the museum of modern art, or one of the science museums, but since the discussion of art, both Jean and Max had a hankering to take in the artworks that were being featured. After all, a simple call to the science museum would set up a group tour or trip. "All right," she smiled benignly, "have fun," she murmured and then climbed into the cab. Scott added is own farewells and then they were gone.

"So?" Logan looked down at Max, seeming a little nervous. It was as if he was unsure what to do with himself and after a moment jammed his hands into his pockets. Max, seeing his indecision made the simple expedient decision of starting to walk in the direction they were already facing. Logan caught up half a step later.

"So you were saying that you've been around the country for quite a while," Max began politely as they walked. "Traveling, doing your thing and the like?" she offered it as a question and Logan agreed.

"I've been around a while," he agreed calmly. "And traveling keeps you occupied. You ever do a lot of it? Aside from coming over from Seattle?"

"Mmm, not really, I guess," Max sighed, thinking that perhaps their travels, while both having them, had served very separate purposes. Logan to find something and for her to escape. "I was born in Wyoming," she offered cautiously. "And when I bugged out, I hung around the Midwest for a while. But something about California just called to me."

"Sunshine, water, beaches, hmm, wonder what it could'a been?" Logan teased.

"Yeah, through all the smog the city still produces, and toxic spills with garbage and refuse everywhere you'd walk because sanitation slowdowns and strikes got to be an every day part of life," Max offered tartly and then chuckled. "But, it was the same everywhere, wasn't it?"

Logan nodded, thinking back to the days before the Pulse. It hadn't been much different for him. Traveling from place to place. Price of gas went up astronomically, but since he'd had his truck with the camper top, he'd had his own lodgings. And cage fighting, or gambling to earn money, had always occurred. Every once in a while, he'd feel bad about taking advantage of some desperate man, trying to increase the little they'd had to be able to afford the things that had mattered. He tried his best to stay away from people like that immediately after the pulse and in turn, had spent a lot of time defending the things that were his.

"It was a real bad time, wasn't it?" he finally sighed. They paused at the corner of the street to wait for a break in the evening traffic, which came soon enough. "So you were how old? When the pulse hit, I mean?"

Max arched a smile up at him, waiting to answer after they'd crossed the street. "I was old enough to understand what was going on and young enough that it made disappearing easy."

"What'd you need to disappear from, if you don't mind..." she waved away his concern in the rest of the question.

"I was in a bad situation in a foster home," she offered quietly. "When we lost power, it was just another excuse for the fists to start flying. So I took off."

Logan nearly stumbled at that, taken aback. He could hear the truth in her words, very clearly, but at the same time, there was something deeper there. He wondered if he should... but how did someone ask, essentially still strangers, but maybe wanting more... He frowned and glanced away, ahead of where they were at. And on the streets, was not exactly the right place for a conversation like that. But before he could say anything, Max was talking again.

"I always regretted that I left Lucy behind," she murmured, but then smiled tightly up at him. "But if I let regrets weigh me down, I'd never get anywhere, huh?"

He smiled gently down at her, in complete agreement. "No use wasting time like that, is there?"

"No," she murmured again. But then her voice was a little stronger. "So, in all your traveling around, was there anything that you had a really great time doing? I mean, as soon as I hit Seattle, I went up on the Space Needle."

"That thing still open?" Logan was surprised. "Last time I was in the area, I'd heard it was pretty condemned."

"Not open to the general populace, per se," Max chuckled and Logan shook his head.

"How was the view?" popped out of his mouth and Max laughed again.

"Pretty amazing," she mulled over it a little. "But then, I wasn't up there for the view, really. Just that I like high up places."

"Really," Logan grimaced. He'd never been a big fan of being up in the air. After all, if mankind, or mutant kind even, were meant to fly, they'd grow wings, right? "We were up on the Statue of Liberty, while ago. Wasn't the most pleasant experience," he sighed and then chuckled under his breath. That was certainly an understatement.

"Not for everyone, I guess," Max shrugged and then something across the street seemed to catch her eye. "Hey, you up for a game of pool?" She paused in her step and Logan followed suit. He could see that they'd crossed into some middle of the road area of New York, where the common working man was likely to go to blow off steam. It felt a lot more natural to him than what Scott and Jean had chosen and he indulged in a strange thing for him, a happy grin.

"You're on darlin'," he agreed and they stepped out into the quieter street, heading for the blue neon glow of a bar named Shorty's.

The reaction of the patrons in the bar as they stepped into it, was the same as the world over. Everyone turned to scope out the newcomers and interested faded quickly as they went back to their alcohol and conversations. Logan could hear the clack of balls from a back room, as well as the muted sounds of a television playing on low. The smoke wasn't as thick as some places he'd frequented. He led Max to the bar and when the bartender turned to them, he pulled some cash from his pocket.

"Beer, Labatt's if you've got it," he ordered and turned to his companion. "Would you like something?" he asked politely and she smirked up at him.

"Beer's fine," she nodded and he scowled. The bartender had already turned away to start retrieving the order. But as Logan looked over her calm countenance he suddenly grinned and turned.

"Make that a pitcher and two glasses bub," he demanded affably. The bartender simply replace the two bottles in his cold case and turned to retrieve a chilled pitcher from his freezer. The process of filling the pitcher was halted as he glanced up at Logan.

"No Labatt's," he offered. "Molsen's do?"

"Even better," Logan ginned at hearing that his favored beer was on tap. He'd have to remember that.

"You really are Canadian, huh?" Max teased.

"Born and bred," he smirked right back. "And after seeing a lot of the crap you Americans put yourselves through, can ya blame a guy for being proud of his heritage?" There was noting certain in his past that put him as Canadian. If he'd had an accent, he'd certainly lost it in his years of traveling, or perhaps even before that, in the time of his life that was lost to him. It was more just a gut feeling that he'd had. Always returning to the snowy peaks of the Rockies and feeling, not quite a peace, but the closest he'd come.

"Hey," Max held her hands out in a peaceful gesture. "Home is what it is. You either love it or you move on."

"Right on sister," one semi-drunken patron called out and before they could comment, had turned back to his conversation with his buddies. He looked to be a veteran and after watching him a moment and listening as the group talked about current government efforts in foreign soil, shrugged at one another in the same moment. They had a chuckle over that and then Logan paid for their pitcher. The bartender slid two glasses over the bar and Max retrieved those while Logan grabbed the beer.

"Lead the way, darlin'," Logan offered.

They found themselves a table at the back, close enough to the pool tables. They were both occupied and after a short conversation, Logan plunked a couple quarters on one, the age old sign, requesting the next use of the table. There was a couple soft laughs and then he returned and took his seat across from Max. She had already poured out for them and he took a long sip before settling the glass.

"They're in the middle of their weekly rematch," he explained, gesturing at the group of four that he'd just chatted with. "They'll be done in a little bit, if you don't mind waiting?"

"I'm good," Max siled, relaxing a little more with the more familiar atmosphere. "I like pool, but I'm even more kick ass on the foosball table."

"Which one is that?" Logan asked, quirking his eyebrows together for a moment.

"The little soccer guys," Max offered and he nodded quickly.

"Right, right," he murmured. "You play a lot?"

"Several times a week," she told him, playing with her own glass. "When I'm chillin' with my friends."

"Yeah, you guys hang out a lot?" Logan recalled from previous conversations. "Place like this?" he wondered aloud. The door opened and just like the rest of the crowd, the pair glanced up to see who had come in. To Logan, it looked like it was just some young blond kid with a leather jacket and too much attitude. He heard a small gasp from Max and wondering, turned back in his seat. "You okay?" he asked. She seemed fine and after the most infinitesimal moment, gave him a reassuring grin.

"Just had a gust of cold air down my back," she explained. Logan eyed her suspiciously. He hadn't noticed anything like that, but perhaps the layout of the place had caused it to bypass him, but still, they were a good distance from the door. Max, as if seeming to realize that, glanced up and noticed that she was right underneath a heating duct vent. The system had just come on.

"Sorry," he apologized gruffly. "We can change seats if you want. Cold don't bother me much."

"Thanks, I'm fine," she shook her head. "First blast was just chilly. It's warming up now."

"All right."

"But anyway, no, the bar we hang at in Seattle isn't like this," she picked up their thread of conversation from before. "It's more geared toward the bike crowd."

"Oh yeah?" Logan's interest perked up and Max giggled.

"Not that kinda bike," she retracted. "Messenger bike," she explained. "There're several of the services in Settle and we all kind of have dickish bosses. So we get together and de-stress. Mick has a nice set up. He put up these screens and had a blast showin' off some of his old dirt bike races from back in the day. And I don't know, I guess people thought that he was majorly into it, so some people started sending him other races, especially the crashes. And there's foosball and pool, like I said. Beer is cheap, always good music and entertainment and people in the same boat, I'm in. Trying to make a livin' off crappy wages and annoying bosses."

"Sounds like a good place," Logan nodded.

"What about you?" Max then turned the conversation around. "I have to say, this seems more your cup of tea than..."

"Yeah," Logan let out a bark of laughter. "Whoever said you've seen one, you've seen 'em all was right about the bars I hit."

"Yeah, I suppose," Max agreed, her eyes twinkling.

"Although," Logan mused as he glanced around. "I tend to find the places where people don't mind lettin' off a little steam."

"Ah, the drink themselves into oblivion, roughhouse at a moment's notice, type of crowd?" Max observed astutely. Logan eyed her and then shrugged. No use in his hiding that part of himself, as it was an awfully large part. Not that he could really get drunk. With his mutant healing abilities, he metabolized the alcohol in beer too quickly in his system. If he could get away with it, he'd drink something much harder, but bartenders were always wary of the heavy hitters. They were often the big money troublemakers.

"Or just go straight into it and find a place that does cage matches," he found himself telling her and it wasn't until her eyes lit up just a tiny bit that he realized that he'd been looking for just that kind of reaction from her. Not the looking down her nose at him for indulging in the more... base side of his nature. But Max seemed to him, someone who appreciated a man who was a man. Or at least one who owned his passions.

"Haven't come across too many of those," Max mused. "I hear they do some serious bank on a good night."

"Actual arenas, yeah," Logan agreed. "Don't get too involved with those, since I'd rather roll through than stick around."

"Draw too much attention?" she asked softly and he nodded. He saw the understanding in her eyes and was startled by it. "Yeah," she muttered, "I was never the sticking around in one place for too long kind either."

"So," Logan began and tried to moisten his throat, "what made you decide to stick around Seattle? For the time that you did?"

Max shrugged and was silent for a long moment and Logan was wondering if he'd asked the wrong question. But then she answered, quietly.

"Got tired of wandering," she spoke softly, gently. "I wasn't specifically looking for it in Seattle, but I found some good friends. And the world today..."

"You need some, at least some of the time, right?" he added and was pleased when that soft, easy smile returned to her face. It always made her seem, younger, maybe more vulnerable when she looked like that. Funny, but he hadn't really realized until then, just how, not old, but knowing, she had looked. Like him, like she had maybe seen too much. He wondered again, if she were some kind of mutant that Chuck was keepin' quiet about, not aging for some reason. Whether from a healing mutation or something else. He wondered again how he could ask a question like this. The bar might seem Veteran friendly, but he was pretty sure that like most places in America it was anti-mutant.

"So," he mused. "Have you been able to talk to your friends? Aside from that Cale guy, I mean." She shook her head quickly and glanced away.

"No," she muttered shortly. "The situation was too... hot. So, no."

"Huh," he sighed. "You miss 'em, right?" He wasn't trying to be astute, but it made sense to him. After she'd just enthused about the people and place she liked to hang out in.

"A coupe of them, yeah," Max grinned again. "But then, when you live with a larger than life nymphomaniac, and have a drama queen lesbian for a best friend, everything else just pales in comparison, right?"

Logan had to let out a burst of laughter at that. "Seriously? You're friends sound... interesting. At least now I can see why livin' at the institute don't scare you off."

"Pfft," Max waved her hand. "Those kids are nothin'. You wouldn't believe some of the crap my friends get themselves involved with."

"Try me," he chuckled. He couldn't exactly share the dire straits that mutant kids found themselves in, as he had himself often enough, but she looked so happy reminiscing that he just wanted to keep the smile on her face.

She was right in the middle of a story about her Jamaican philosopher friend going head to head with her boss, 'Normal' about the birth of Bob Marley and the rights of all Rastafarian's to dope up, because they'd been commanded to in the bible, when the players from earlier moseyed over.

"Table's free bud," the guy that Logan had talked to before interrupted. Logan glanced up with a quick assessment. The guy seemed affable, but was smiling down at Max. She however, was pointedly ignoring the guy. So while there was a warmth in the pit of his stomach about that, the need to dominate and move the guy out of his territory was also prevalent.

"Thanks," he uttered shortly and turned quickly so that his body was aligned directly opposite Max's, though he was still hyper aware of the other male near him. With his accelerated senses, there was no way he couldn't be. "You ready darlin'?" he asked with a possessive smirk on his face that no matter how hard he tried, or didn't try in this case, he didn't think he could wipe off his face.

Max took a moment to drain the last little bit of her beer and return the glass to the table. "If you're that eager to get your ass whupped, then bring it," she chuckled and the smirk on his face turned to a grin.

"We'll see whose whuppin' who," he teased, loving how even the artificial lights of the building reflected deeply through her eyes.

"All right," she nodded. "Lemme make a pit stop and then we'll play. Rack 'em up?"

He realized instantly, as she had tilted her head in the direction of the back of the actual bar itself, where the signs proclaimed facilities for patrons use, what she needed. He gave her a nod and hopped off his stool, moving enough to effectively block the intruder into their conversation from her. Max gave him a look that seemed to warn that she knew what he was up to. But she said nothing as the guy behind Logan backed off to return to his friends, watching Max walk away from a distance. Logan smirked again as he overheard agreement among the group that he was 'a lucky bastard'. He couldn't disagree with them there.

Once he had assured himself that Max was fine reaching her intended destination, he moved over to the pool table. Both were free now, though there were some other people looking with interest at the tables. He quickly assessed which seemed the more level of the two, both tables having seen plenty of use. Choosing the one that had been closest to them and still had his quarters residing on the edge, Logan inserted the proper amount into the mechanism, noting that he'd have to get some more change if they played more than a game or two. He wasn't particularly fond of the sound of change jingling in his pockets.

He had just finished racking the pool balls and deciding upon the pool cue he cared to use from the limited selection when he noted Max returning. She was ambling along, wiping one knuckle along her hip and even as she did so, Logan saw something white fall from her pockets and flutter to the floor. One of the patrons, sitting at the corner of the bar, noticed as well and leaned over with an agility that said his night was just starting and swiped it up. He glanced at it and then threw it into the unused ashtray in front of him.

Max had reached Logan by then and smiling up at him, then stepped around him to choose a pool cue as well.

"You dropped something back there darlin'," he noted and Max looked up at him surprised.

"I did?" she asked, seeming puzzled.

"Looked like some paper," he informed her and she looked a little startled as she settled the cue on the floor to rest in the crook of her arm as she quickly searched her pockets. From her left pocket came a slim fold of cash, from her right, her keys to her Ninja. Stuffing them back into her pockets, she quickly checked her back pocket and glanced at her key card for her room.

"Huh," she muttered. "Nothing major missing. Must've just been a receipt or something," she decided and then glanced up at Logan, at ease once again. "I kind of just stuffed everything from my other clothes into my pockets once I was changed. Thanks though."

"No problem," Logan nodded, relieved that it wasn't something important. "Care to break?" he asked and once more, all was right with his evening again.


	21. Chapter 21

Title: The Glory Of Manticore

Author: Restive Nature

Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to Dark Angel or to X-men. They belong respectively to Cameron/ Eglee and to Marvel Comics. No infringement is intended and this fiction is for private enjoyment only.

Rating: up to R

Chapter Rating: PG-13

Genre: Crossover

Type: action/ Romance

Pairing: Max/ Logan

Summary: Max is once again on the run. But this time a safe haven awaits her in the form of Professor Xavier's School for Gifted Children.

Spoilers/ Time line: Post the first movie, for X-men. First season for DA, starting off from Episode "Blah Blah Woof Woof"

Feedback: Always welcome!

Distribution: Ask first please.

The Glory Of Manticore

Chapter Twenty-one

"Gotta say," Logan commented as they were walking back to the hotel. They had just left Shorty's bar and he was currently counting up their take from the evening's entertainment as they moved. "This was a nice little haul, for bein' unplanned." He'd finished mentally tallying the bills and split the amount in half, holding one bundle out to Max, who took it and just stuffed it into her jeans pocket.

"Certainly covered beer huh?" she chuckled in response as she returned her hands to her coat pockets. Logan smiled, thinking fondly how relaxing the evening had actually been. After chattering quite a bit of time away, the pool table had come free and they'd touched on more subjects, such as how Logan and consequently Rogue had come to be introduced to Xavier's school. Logan didn't add much more than the truck had run into a fallen tree and Scott and Ororo had gotten them out before the fuel tank in the back had exploded. Max had seemed to accept that at face value, though she was interested in why he stuck around.

He mentioned again wanting to watch over Rogue and figure a few things out. On top of the obvious lack of transportation since his truck had been destroyed. Then the incident at Liberty Island happened, which Max clued in to as being a little bit more than terrorists planning on attacking the conference. He was pleased that she didn't automatically assume the worst. They talked about the reasons each had stuck around their respective chosen bases, again. Mostly, they found, it was a need of a connection of sorts, though Logan had growled out that she better not repeat that to certain people. She had laughingly agreed as long as he did the same for her.

They'd been enjoying themselves so much, pretty evenly matched on the pool table, that they hadn't really, other than on a subconscious level, noticed the attention they'd garnered. Eventually the rematch boys from earlier had returned to ask if they could join in since they were a little tired of playing against only each other. Logan had chanced a glance at Max and she had nodded. So the play started and it moved on quickly to friendly bets and wagers. Logan had realized then that she had been holding back quite a bit, as had he, intent on enjoying the time passing rather than the challenge of the game.

"You hustled them boys like a pro, you know," he complimented, with a glint in his eyes and then wondered if she'd take that in the vein that he meant it. To his relief, she just chuckled.

"It's paid the bills before, so yeah," she smiled and then glanced down at herself. "Of course, if I'd chosen a top that was a little more risque, they wouldn't have known what hit them."

"Well, I think you look just fine darlin'," he complimented, his eyes lingering just a little longer than necessary. "But maybe..."

"Oh don't worry, I'm used to it," she teased as Logan glanced up to see her watching his face with amusement clear on her own. "Males and females the world over all have the same equalizer of their own, huh?"

With her almost tacit approval, Logan allowed his eyes to openly run up and down the length of her as they continued. He knew that his body definitely liked what he saw, it was just the other things that tripped him up. Whether being too much of a loner to worry about the social niceties, or too much of a pessimist to want to indulge in the hypocrisy of them, he didn't care.

"Am what I am sweetheart," he finally uttered. "And if it's wrong to appreciate your attributes, then I don't wanna be right." That caused a gale of laughter from her that had her leanin' on him for support. Finally, she snorted out a last chuckled and turned her head up to meet his gaze.

"Again, if I get the same rights, you'll have no arguments from me," she informed him and then smirked. "Really hate double standards, you know."

"That's fine by me," Logan told her with a wink. "You can appreciate me anytime." She giggled again and he was extremely pleased that she didn't move away from him and he cautiously moved his arm just a little to where his hand was around her lower back, to rest cautiously on her hip. She just turned slightly into him, snugging her arms in tightly against herself so that she wasn't jabbing him in the ribs with her elbows.

"I think you must be a little drunk," she finally sighed, though there was no censure in it.

"Can't get me drunk," Logan grunted and when her head turned up to his again, he found himself explaining further. "With the way I heal, my body burns through the alcohol too fast. Maybe get a buzz if I drink fast enough, for a little while anyway." He didn't mention that that little while, was a few seconds or just slightly longer.

"Gotta say," Max shook her head, "that... sucks. But, on the bright side, no hang over, right?"

Logan hummed out an agreement and they fell silent as they continued. It wasn't awkward or charged with anything other than what had been there all evening long, alone, just the pair of them, or in the company of others. Logan walked along, this beautiful woman under his arm, feeling closer to something that mattered, really mattered in his life than it had in a long time. It was all he needed right then and he could only hope that she might feel something of that too.

If this was what he thought it was, then he'd definitely found a way to be drunk and happily so.

"There's Jean and Scott," Max noted quietly, as they neared the hotel. Logan glanced up from where he had been alternating between watching Max's profile as she animatedly explained something and where his feet had been stepping. They'd steered each other around a few obstacles and it seemed to work okay. The breeze that was playing through the city that late at night, given the naturally cooler temperatures didn't bother him, but he wasn't as sure about Max. And since she hadn't shrugged off his friendly embrace or said anything, he'd kept her tucked into his side the entire way back.

He could see the familiar pair just climbing out of a taxicab. Scott was holding Jean's hand as she tried to exit the vehicle without sullying her long dress. She was mostly successful, more because the cab was close to the curb than any other reason. As if he had heard her murmur, Scott glanced up just after she said it and after an appraising moment, smiled and glanced back down to his girlfriend. She turned her head and smiled as well, continuing to move out of the way so that Scott could shut the vehicle door.

The look that Scott had thrown at them though, had two effects. One, it caused Logan to squeeze Max a little tighter in a masculine predatory manner and two, it made him realize that Scott was thinking what was natural to be thinking and he really shouldn't be thinking that, because the thinking was none of his business. And also, that if he said anything to Max, Logan was likely to break his nose. Which would not be a good thing, because then his smarmy little shades wouldn't sit right and New York would add a new skyline to the tour guide.

But Max seemed to have no problem with being held tighter and her happy little sigh seemed full of contentment. Logan noted that the couple were waiting for them before going in. The doorman for the evening shift was eying both couples and relaxed when Max called out her greetings.

"Hey you guys," she wasn't overly loud, just enough that she could be heard from the remaining few feet away that they were. "Did you enjoy the theater?"

"It was enjoyable," Jean said, a little tightly, her features slightly pinched.

"Oh," Max seemed to pout. "Headache again?" Both Scott and Logan evinced surprise at that one. Looking closer, Logan could see that the usual lines, not always noticeable around Jean's eyes, tension lines, were etched in a little deeper that before.

"Just a little one," Jean concurred. Logan and Max had joined them at that point and they all seemed to silently concur in getting out of the still cooling evening air.

"Why didn't you say something?" Scott protested as they moved through the door, Max right behind him, though Logan's hand had slipped to her lower back and she was slightly ahead of him now.

"It was just a small one," Jean reassured him. "I took some pain medication at the intermission and went through my meditation routine."

"Oh," Scott murmured, looking slightly perplexed. "I wasn't aware you were doing that again."

"Max suggested it earlier," Jean smiled up at him. "And you needn't worry. The headache is gone."

"I'm glad," Scott smiled, though to Logan's watchful eye, he still seemed concerned. Not that he could blame the guy. Jean's power unchecked could be a serious thing.

"A good night's sleep will probably help too," Max piped up helpfully. Jean nodded as they made for the elevator bank.

"Mmm," she agreed. "It'll be good to get out of this dress though," she chuckled, rubbing at her side. "I wasn't thinking of all that rich food at dinner tonight when I put it on." Both women chuckled as Scott and Logan shared an amusedly exasperated glance over their heads.

"Well now see," Max chucked suddenly, turning to look up at Logan. "If I'd worn a cut like Jean's bodice, easily, like triple our take."

"Triple your what?" Scott asked from the far side of the group.

"Our take," Logan repeated with a grin. "Max suckered some locals into a few wagers."

"How much did you win?" Scott asked, eying them appraisingly. "If you don't mind me asking?"

Logan shrugged down at Max and she turned to tell him the amount. Scott let out a low whistle. "That was each of us," Logan added and Scott's eyebrows nearly climbed into his hairline.

"Remind me to challenge you guys sometime," he grinned. Jean smiled as well and turned to Max.

"He won't play against me because every time I make a 'too good to be true' shot, he accuses me of using my gift," she informed the girl.

"Well, don't you?" Scott teased. They all laughed as the elevator slowed as they reached their floor.

"Only when there's money on the table," Jean confided and Max knocked her shoulder gently against Jean's arm and gave her a not so subtle thumbs up.

"Just don't let Max challenge you to foozy ball," Logan grunted, knowing that he'd deliberately messed up what it was called and not caring. "Apparently she rocks that game too."

He heard Scott gently murmuring a repeat of what he'd called it before the taller man burst out into more chuckles. "I'll keep that in mind," he guffawed. They exited the elevator behind the females who had already moved on to the topic of the next day. By the time they'd caught up to them, standing between Scott and Jean's suite and Max's, both women had agreed upon a time to be up and ready to go. That decided, Max turned to Logan and smiled up at him.

"Thank you for tonight," she smiled happily, her entire face shining. "I really enjoyed the chance to kick back and relax."

"It was no trouble at all, darlin'," he demurred, only slightly startled when she was rising up on her toes to press a kiss into his cheek. He had the strongest urge to turn his head at the last second, but Scott's smug visage had him resisting the urge. The one to knock that self satisfied smirk off his thin face, that reared it's head again and Logan was close to giving in.

"Good night Logan," she murmured and with that, all his attention was back on her. She squeezed the hand closest to her, the one not ensconced in his jean pocket.

"Good night Max," he murmured back, wondering if there was even a slight chance that after Scott and Jean had retired, that he could return. Not because he was after something, but just because, the longer he was in her presence, the more it seemed right to be there. He liked the feeling and being a simple guy, figured the quickest way to be happy was to give in to that and go with the flow. But their smug, slightly expectant faces seemed to have something different in mind for the pair of them.

Max smiled at the couple and then inserted her key card into her room lock. It lit up immediately and she slipped inside, with nothing further said. The moment the latch sounded, very audibly in the hallway, Logan nodded to the others and spun around on his heel, heading for his room, reaching for his own key card. He didn't bother trying to decipher the reason behind their chuckles.

Max turned and pushed the door shut gently, tuning out the trio in the hallway. She was surprised at herself. She wasn't usually one for demonstrative gestures, such as she had just exhibited with Logan, out in the hallway. Although it had happened on occasion, when she did so it was usually someone that she had known for a good long while. Still, it hadn't been that bad. She'd almost been expecting Logan to turn, but perhaps Scott and Jean's presence had forestalled him.

She heard heavier footsteps fade away and the soft murmur of Jean and Scott fade as a nearby click was heard. She smiled ruefully. "I sure didn't expect to see you tonight," she spoke softly, not turning just yet, wanting to get the goofy smile leftover from an evening spent relaxing with good company, wiped from her lips.

"I suppose," he answered with a small chuckle. "But one of these days you'll figure out that I'm always watching out for you Maxie."

"I know Zack," she retorted, feeling very much the put upon younger sibling, with big brother forever trailing after her to clean up her messes. Of course, they weren't always of her making, but then.. that was family for you. She turned and he had moved closer and she shook her head up at him, wondering if he'd accept a hug from her. It had seemed strange to him, the last time she'd been physically affectionate with him. And then she decided it didn't matter. The affection was there, whether he wanted to acknowledge it or not. She'd hug him and if he hugged her back, then great. But even as she opened her arms to greet him, he was smiling and doing the same.

The hug was longer than she'd normally give someone, but she was very relieved that he hadn't stormed in with his "world is ending, Maxie in peril, must leave now" attitude. When she'd spotted him earlier, at the bar, she wasn't sure what to think. But he had made no move to intercept her or give her any indication that something was wrong. So when she'd found a pen in the back hallway on her way to the bathroom, she'd written down her hotel name and room number on the back of one of her receipts and "accidentally" dropped it for him. Logan of course, had noticed, but when she'd glanced, the receipt was gone from the floor and her brother was calmly sipping at the beer he had ordered. Through his stay, he'd had two beers, totally ignoring her until he had slipped out with a simple hand gesture they'd learned as children that roughly translated into 'see you later'. And now here he was.

They parted easily and Max moved to lead her brother over to the couch. "So not that I'm not thrilled to see you, but why are you here?" she asked. "Or is it more just lookin' out for me?"

"That's it," Zack sighed, answering quickly. A little too quickly for Max's liking, but as she covertly studied his face, saw he was doing the same to her. "Just keeping an eye on you Max. From what I understand, you seem to attract trouble." She snorted delicately and angled her body so that she could talk easily with him. "And I just wanted to let you know that you're off the hook."

"Off the hook?" she repeated slowly, an inkling immediately in her mind about what he was talking about. "With...?"

"Vogelsang," he answered succinctly and looked so smug that warning bells were going off in her mind.

"What did you do?" she demanded.

"Cleared your name," he shrugged one shoulder. "It was simple, really. Just got my hands on a voice modifier, called in an anonymous tip on the murderer and pretty much led the cops to the murder weapon."

"And whose prints were on the weapon?" she asked archly, knowing exactly what her brother would have done to cover his tracks.

"Non-local gangster," Zack shrugged, completely unconcerned with pining his crime on someone else. Max sighed. Well, at least that cleared her up. "Bugged out of there and as soon as I figured the heat had settled, I contacted Cale."

"You actually willingly called Logan?" she scoffed teasingly and her brother shrugged one shoulder.

"Tried a few times," he muttered. "When I finally got a hold of him though," Zack continued, "I got him to check with those contacts of his and he confirmed that you've been completely cleared as a suspect."

"Good to know," Max frowned, wondering at the comment on Logan's nonavailability. "Anything else?"

"Not much," Zack sighed. "Sounds like the cops are now looking at a male suspect. They're still interested in talking to you, see if you know anything about what went down. But they aren't actively looking. So you are technically free to go back."

Max could hear the tone in his voice that told her that big brother didn't think it was a very good idea. "If I go back now, there's no guarantee that they won't try to pin me as an accessory down the line," she hesitated. Zack was nodding instantly. "If they think I know anything..."

"That's the cops usual method," he sighed and then smirked slightly at her. "What're you thinking Maxie?"

She hesitated. Her brother was very much a soldier through and through, even if he wouldn't admit it. Well, he had to some extent, admitting that it was what kept them alive, the training they had received. But it was all utilized in an effort to keep them alive and to keep them safe. He had already reamed on her for being sentimentally attached to Seattle, more so the people in it. She was sure that right off the cuff, he'd say the same thing about Xavier's people.

It wouldn't matter to Zack that they were mutants. That they'd perhaps be a bit more understanding than the rest of the general populace about the difficulties they faced. He'd tell them they were all fools for banding together where they could be found so easily. Never mind the old adage about safety in numbers.

There was also the matter of Logan. The newer Logan in her life. The attraction, if that was what one called it, that had been growing since the first moment they had laid eyes on each other. Max was still of two minds in exploring that. But for the greater part of her urged her to consider at the moment, she was safe here. As safe as she could be anywhere. Zack would argue that there was no safety anywhere and that's why moving on was the best way to achieve anonymity and safety.

There was also the niggling suspicion that Zack wasn't just here for her. She wondered how she could get him to admit that and then figure out what it was he was after in New York. There could have been multiple things, reasons, but the only thing that he'd kept from her was the locations of the rest of their unit. If it somehow involved one of them, then Max wanted to stay in the general vicinity as well. But how to accomplish that?

"I'm not so sure that heading back now is the best idea," she murmured, low and slow and Zack nodded his head.

"Where would you go then?" he wondered and Max refrained from sighing, or rolling her eyes. For all that he expounded on being a step ahead of the bad guys, he was utterly predictable to her.

"Back to Westchester," she decided aloud. "For now," she hastened to assure him. "So far, these people aren't pushing and things are good. If I have to bail, then I bail." The lie passed her tongue only moments before she knew it as such. She didn't want to have to pick up and leave again. Start fresh on her own. She knew without a doubt that once Zack knew that she was on the move again, he'd disappear from her life unless she called for help or he deigned to make another appearance.

"You shouldn't let it get down to an either or situation Max," he lectured and this time she couldn't refrain from the eyes rolling heavenward. "Leave before they get attached. Before you get attached. Look what happened this last time."

"Yeah yeah," Max sighed, as if resigned to the idea. "I need time to lay my plans," she offered, not outlining exactly what the plan was and hoping he wouldn't ask. To her utter relief, he didn't.

"All right," he acquiesced with what she assumed was meant to be an encouraging smile. "You know how to play it right Max, I know you do."

"Only 'cause you made sure those contingency plans were pounded into out thick skulls, right?" she teased. Zack allowed himself a grin and then hunkered down a little.

"Okay, is there anything I can help with to get you going?" he offered and she was slightly taken by surprise at that.

"Yeah," she murmured. "Actually there is." She paused and he waited patiently for her and she darted her eyes to the safe and smirked. "Know any good fences?"

Zack chuckled and his eyes followed hers as well. "The safe?" he asked and then made a tsking noise. "Sloppy Max. But yeah, I've got a line on one or two guys here in the city. And if I talk to 'em, they'll either deal with you, or I'll play middleman."

"Okay," Max grinned. "Saves me the pavement pounding trying to suss 'em out." Zack nodded. "Can we get it done this weekend?"

"Think we can," Zack mused for a moment. "You're going to be here until when?"

"We're supposed to go back Sunday afternoon," she informed him. Zack looked thoughtful for a moment.

"Would you be able to get away from your... friends, tomorrow?"

"Eh," Max hedged. "We've got plans to take in the Museum of Modern Art at some point tomorrow. And in the evening, we're going to some blues club they like."

"Okay," Zack nodded once more and straightened up. "I'll find you then." He moved towards the window of the living room and Max cocked one eyebrow at him. As he popped it open and climbed out onto the fire escape, he turned to part with one last sally. "And if you do sleep, don't let the bedbugs bite," he teased. Max followed him, to shut the window behind her paranoid brother.

"You remember that, huh?"

He smiled, gently, reaching for her cheek and his thumb stroked it once. "I remember everything about you Maxie," he told her softly and then with a powerful jump upwards, was gone again. Max stared out into the night for a few moments before she pulled the window shut gently and re latched it. She stood, staring out into the night, musing over how quickly the winds could change. Like the change now where she decided that since she no longer had to go out prowling for a fence to offer her goods to, that she could find something relaxing to do around her hotel room.

Television sounded good and she moved over to pick up the remote that was laying on the top of the mid sized entertainment center that house the television. Just as she was moving to take a seat on the sofa, she heard heavy footsteps stop outside her door and a heavy pounding on her door began.


	22. Chapter 22

Title: The Glory Of Manticore

Author: Restive Nature

Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to Dark Angel or to X-men. They belong respectively to Cameron/ Eglee and to Marvel Comics. No infringement is intended and this fiction is for private enjoyment only.

Rating: up to R

Chapter Rating: PG-13

Genre: Crossover

Type: action/ Romance

Pairing: Max/ Logan

Summary: Max is once again on the run. But this time a safe haven awaits her in the form of Professor Xavier's School for Gifted Children.

Spoilers/ Time line: Post the first movie, for X-men. First season for DA, starting off from Episode "Blah Blah Woof Woof"

Feedback: Always welcome!

Distribution: Ask first please.

A/N: This chapter gets pretty heavy, delving into the not so obvious gifts of Logan's mutation. Some are obvious when portrayed in the various forms of media that the X-men franchise covers. Some are taken from the portrayal of Logan's characters in the comics that was kind of ignored by the movies. Regardless, these senses are part of the character that may or may not come into play further in the fiction and I didn't want them popping up suddenly in the midst of an action scene or whatever that would detract from the story.

The Glory Of Manticore

Chapter Twenty-two

The moment that Logan had turned away, he had began planning and ruminating. He was not ready for his evening to end and he knew that with everything that New York had to offer, to anyone and everyone, there really was only one thing that held his interest. And that was the woman in the hotel room next to his. There was a small smile gracing his lips as he used the damn key card to gain access to his room.

But even as he had been smiling as he entered, he frowned and grimaced when he caught wind of a trace of flowery perfume within his room. Glancing at the open bedroom door, he moved that way, noting that the scent remained at about the same level all over the room. And when he made it to the doorway, he noted that his bed had been made. So housekeeping had been in his room. He cursed himself for not remembering to put the "Do Not Disturb' door hanger on his room door. It was a shortcoming to his mutation, one of the many that always had the power to trip him up.

Scents and smells, sounds, always triggered something with people. Whether it evoked memories, feelings or anything, great. But for Logan, whose nose and hearing were so much more sensitive than others, it was more a melange of sensations that he could do without. The perfume that the girl from housekeeping was wearing was probably light and floral to anyone else's nose, but to Logan, it was all fake. There were flowery scents that weren't quite true enough to nature to fool him, tainted by the chemical smell underlying it that did bring up bad feelings for him. Plus they always smelled much stronger to him, making his nose itch.

And then, when one combined the perfume scents on top of a person's natural body odor, well, too many humans, mutant and ordinary alike, had no sense of how to harmonize. At least in Logan's mind. There were the layers upon layers that people tried to mask themselves with. The soaps and deodorants, perfumes, mists, sprays. He was thankful that his mutation also kept him from getting constant headaches from the overload. At least this girl, whomever she had been, either wasn't working hard enough to bring up a sweat, or she knew what scent worked well with her body type.

Logan pushed off the door frame and yanked the sheets from the bed. The girl's perfume combined with the laundry detergent used wasn't setting well with him and he debated how much trouble Scott and Jean would give him for hanging the sheets out the window. But, knowing that that would just add more detritus smell from the air of New York to the mix, decided against it. He separated the coverlet from the sheets, hoping that the scent wouldn't linger in the bedroom. He rolled the coverlet up and stuffed it into a large dresser drawer that was empty. Pursing his lips, he realized it wouldn't help much.

Because there were still all the scents that had picked up and clung to him, from their excursion at the restaurant and then the bar. And while he was pleased that close contact with Max had allowed her scent to rub off on him, the combination wasn't heady enough. Grinning, he decided that perhaps taking a shower wouldn't be a bad thing and would give him a little time so that it didn't look like he was chasing after her, though he kind of wanted to do just that. Perhaps it would be enough time to allow Jean to take Scott's dirty little mind some place else. He smirked as he thought of that, realizing that he was being a typical licentious male and that the thought of Jean, whom he had had a massive, he realized now, crush on the woman, but it no longer hurt. It wasn't painful.

Grinning like a damn fool as he began unbuttoning his shirt, heading for the bathroom, he wondered how long it had actually been since he felt like this. Not in his actual, relatively recent memories, fifteen plus years worth, had he felt like this. And wondering how long he had been alive prior to that, especially with Jean's assertion that he might be older than Chuck. Even as he continued to turn on the water and allow it to heat, he wondered idly, exactly how long the mutant evolution had been going on. Maybe longer than people supposed. It was something that randomly occupied his mind to think of, while he came up with distractions from racing back to Max's room.

Had they been in the mansion, he wouldn't have worried too much. He would know pretty much what the evening entertainments for the kids and the teachers called for. What was available for doing. But here, in the confines of a hotel, there was a certain constraint. They'd already been out and about and would do so again. He hadn't really paid attention to the bell hop when he had been trying to explain any amenities that the hotel had. These places were pretty much all the same to Logan. Room, bed, tv and phone. Room service at the nice places and get out by eleven.

Of course, given his propensity for bad dreams and his adamantium claws making themselves known at inopportune moments while sleeping, hotels weren't usually the best choice for him. But he had the feeling that Chuck would cover him should the worst happen this weekend. One would have thought, Logan mused to himself, as he was later toweling himself dry, that having a good day, such as this one had been, he wouldn't be subject to the nightmares. But whatever it was that his subconscious was trying to work out or express, it needed no prompting from a days events it seemed.

As he redressed in thick plaid sleep pants, a white wife beater and then a hoodie over top, Logan frowned at his choice of footwear. This would have been the time to have slippers. But he wasn't particularly a slipper kind of guy. And while he had no problem wandering around barefoot, since cold, rough walkways and injury didn't bother him, he was aware that this just wasn't the place for that kind of behavior. So he had the choice of his boots, or some sneakers that Rogue had bought him. With a sigh, he sat down at the edge of the sofa and pulled on the sneakers. Hopefully he wouldn't be wearing them too long.

As he slipped his card key into the front pocket of the hoodie, he took a quick bracing breath. The one thought that he hadn't allowed himself, was to wonder if Max was sick of his company yet. She had seemed to enjoy herself just as much as he had that evening. All of the signals he could read from her all seemed to point to the same thing. That she wanted to see where this thing between them was going as well. And if they had been back at the mansion, Logan was quite sure that they'd have been spending the night together.

Not in quite that sense, as Logan didn't think she was there yet. Totally there anyway. He wasn't sure if he was totally there yet either. While the majority of his body was urging him that way, there were still some things on his mind that held him back. But he certainly saw no problems with spending some of the night watching television or talking, whatever she was up to. He could only hope that she wouldn't turn him away.

As he made his way the short length of the hallway between their doors, he tilted his head as things began to filter in on his consciousness. His eyebrows drew together as he heard another voice from his right hand side. A male voice and given the dimensions of the rooms, this would be coming from Max's room. Wondering who it could be, since it wasn't Scott, as his voice was murmuring lowly to Jean and she was answering, from his left, Logan moved a little more quickly.

It could be part of the hotel staff. Perhaps Max had ordered room service. He wanted to grin, but he couldn't imagine that she was hungry again. But he didn't know her well enough to have her eating habits pegged. And she wasn't on the phone. There wasn't the staticky sound that went along with it. And then it was gone. There was no more male voice, just the hushed whispers of Max moving around her room. Staring at the door and this conundrum, Logan tamped down the sudden irritation, remembering the way those boys had watched Max at the pool table and his urge to back them off of her and out of their vicinity every single time they got too close.

He lifted his hand to knock, politely. He had intended politely, but his closed fist descended heavily and he winced slightly as the noise echoed in the hallway. He heard her moving again and wondered what he might have interrupted. The door swung inwards and her beautifully exotic face had a slightly perplexed grin gracing it as she regarded him.

"Logan?" she asked softly, taking him in. She was still dressed in her clothes from this evening. "What's up?"

He shifted his stance, relaxing as he heard no further noises from her room. She had a remote in her other hand and he relaxed against the door frame and smiled at her. He shrugged his free shoulder. "Just thought I could say good night. Without the audience."

"Oh, I see," she chuckled. "Not tired and completely bored?" she asked. Logan grinned down at her.

"Is that supposed to be you or me?" he teased.

"Maybe both," she retorted, her eyes sparkling. She held up the remote and waved it a little. "As a matter of fact, I was going to get comfy and do some channel cruisin'. You're welcome to join me."

"All right," he acquiesced happily and straightened up as she moved back to allow him entry. But as soon as she had moved away and he had pushed the door shut behind himself, he caught it. A different scent. Not Max's, not his, not Scott and definitely not one that he had smelt around the hotel at any point in the day. His mind instantly cataloged the difference of it, nailing it as heavier on the testosterone. Definitely male. His hand on Max's arm kept her from moving too far from his side. "There's someone here," he warned her quietly, his eyes darting around the room. Something about the scent was bothering him and it wasn't something that his brain could identify. It just felt like... threat. But not a threat that he was used to. And a threat that had been very near to Max as he caught the scent lingering around her. It made no sense.

"Uh, that'd be you and me," Max spoke, sounding bemused and when she tried to move, the pressure in his grip on her arm increased minutely as he shook his head.

"Someone else," he warned again, trying hard to control the instincts that were hardwired from his brains to his claws. They were itching to make an appearance and since Max wasn't aware of them yet, he didn't want to freak her out and scare her off.

He realized instantly as a murmur of protest began to rise up in her throat that he was going to have to give her a little more than that to go on. But, with his claws not allowed to make an appearance to her as such, and not ever having properly explained his mutation around her, and now he was wishing that someone, even if it had not been him, had said something, grunted in consternation.

"I can smell 'im," he allowed and her eyebrows instantly shot up, but there didn't seem to be any loathing immediately in her reaction.

"You can smell him?" she repeated and sounded thoroughly amused, with maybe a hint of resignation and just the tiniest hesitation.

He nodded slowly, returning his eyes to a slow scan of the area, even as his other senses worked overtime as they usually did. Max had relaxed once more, not feeling the threat as he had, which was understandable on her part. Logan found to his amusement that part of him didn't mind it ether. Something primal in his brain, even deeper than his mutated genes provided was telling him that it was just fine for her to let him take care of this. He wanted to take care of this, prove that he could take care of her. Even as quickly as the thought formed in his mind, it was shoved aside to be examined later, before it had fully evolved.

"It was probably someone on the hotel staff," Max sighed as he inched forward. "Turn down service or somethin'."

"No perfume," he grunted, as if that explained it all. He heard her mouth pop open, probably to ask how he knew that, but just as quickly snap shut. She remained quiet as Logan, with a small wait for her and receiving a shrug and a gesture to go ahead, checked both the bedroom and the bathroom. Her bed had not been touched, as far as he could tell, though the scent had been in there briefly. The bathroom not at all. So that finished blowing her theory about housekeeping having been in there. Unless they employed more than one person per floor, which was a possibility. But something told Logan that this wasn't the case. The scent had to have been right behind her to account for it lingering around her.

He continued to scan the room, following the scent to the window. It was heavily concentrated there, telling him that this person had been in the room recently. Very recently, near Max, his senses were informing him. He tried hard, desperately hard not to let the rage that was naturally building at another male encroaching on what his mind and body were considering his. He pushed the window open hard and glanced out. The drop was as nothing to him. A fall would hurt, but he'd recover. But to his utter annoyance, the further he leaned out, the fainter the scent got. It was heavier there. It made very little sense to him There was no balcony, but a fire escape which was still required by law for the hotel to have. It looked fairly rickety, but other than the scent right at the window, Logan had no other indication of this males presence. It hadn't been at the door. The entry point had been the window, he was sure of it. It had come up a while ago, but it hadn't gone back down. The only options he could see was another mutant, which his senses were telling him that it wasn't likely, or the male had gone up. He glanced in that direction, but saw nothing. Had this unknown intruder been watching Max, waiting for her to return? Had he entered her room when they had gotten back, perhaps slipped out when her back had been turned? After all, he was pretty sure that his hearing was a hell of a lot better than hers. And what might have seemed normal to him, hearing that male speaking in her room, might have been an inaudible whisper to her. There had been many occasions where his hearing had picked up audible clues that others hadn't.

Worried now for various reasons and even though it all seemed clear, he was having trouble as he slowly pulled the window back down. Because a new scent was permeating the air behind him and he realized his mistake. He had told her as much as he could, but even though Max had given her reluctant approval for him to prove himself not an ass, she wasn't happy about him not taking her at her word. And so, he either looked like a jerk, which he was used to, or he tried to make it better with giving her a half assed explanation of things he didn't totally understand about himself. He was a doer, not a thinker, even if his brain could process senses much faster than others could believe.

He turned slowly and held back the wince that wanted to escape as she stood, still at the front door, her arms crossed over her stomach, the remote loosely clutched in the same hand it had been in. He wondered how far away she was from tapping her toes in impatience. Her lips were slightly pursed and her eyes hard and assessing. Yep, it all added up to annoyed.

Before an apology could even begin to make an appearance, she spoke. "You're pretty paranoid, aren't you?"

And even as with all other threats, he reacted defensively. "And you're not, huh? You think you would be with these so called major bad asses gunning for ya. Or maybe we didn't get the whole story on that. Someone was in here, even if you didn't see him." If he'd thought that the slight or the warning would hit the mark, he was way off on that thought. She barely seemed to register the thought as a blip on her sarcasm radar. Or her self preservation radar.

"They haven't caught me yet," she pointed out mildly. "I've been taking care of myself for a long time. That ain't gonna change. And even if someone was in here, I roll pretty fast. One second of surprise is nothing. I don't need coddling and protecting like your little friend."

Logan was bristling, listening to her so casually dismiss whatever threat she had already on her and the threat that he was feeling now. He just didn't know how to change her opinion over that without acting like a blunt instrument and to his regret, he felt more like that than ever. He didn't know how to do suave and in control. Something happened and it took a lot from him to stay in the kind of control that the civilized world demanded. Even Charles and the rest of his little gang of do-gooders hadn't seen him in a full berserker rage that he was capable of. He had come close when Rogue had been threatened, but the threat had been dealt with before he got to that breaking point. For himself, he figured that the last ten minutes, he had done a damn fine job of not going overboard. But until she knew the full truth about him, she just wasn't going to see that. But then, to his utter amazement, something in her softened and her arms dropped.

"I gotta say though," she mused, a smile playing about her lips," that's it's nice to have an extra set of eyes lookin' out."

Relief that he hadn't completely cocked everything up coursed through him. "Yeah," he grinned, swallowing once to moisten his throat, gone dry at the reappearance of her smile, "the professor likes taking people under his proverbial wings. We've been through some things and we... know some of what each other are all capable of. I guess we've all just learned to band together."

"Whether you like it or not?" she asked teasingly. Logan shrugged once.

"Pretty much," he agreed and then glanced up at her from under hooded eyes. "I guess that's including you now too." He held his breath as she ruminated a moment over that. And then she laughed as she moved away from the door, heading for the couch.

"There are worse people I could be hangin' with," she smirked and stood behind the sofa as she lifted the remote and clicked the television on. She glanced back at him. "You joinin' me or plannin' on standing bodyguard all night?" Even further relieved and pleased, Logan moved forward, catching the remote as she tossed it to him. "Get comfy and find us something to watch while I get changed," she commanded easily as she veered off to disappear into the bedroom.

Logan settled himself into the corner of the sofa, figuring that she could choose her seat when she got back. Even as he absentmindedly flipped through the channels available, not caring really what was on, he listened to the soft sounds of fabric rustling, drawers sliding on their rollers and the soft humming of his girl. The thing that relieved him most was that she was allowing him to stay, even if she didn't believe in the threat he felt.

Could have been a disaster, but at the moment, life was still pretty damn good.


	23. Chapter 23

Title: The Glory Of Manticore

Author: Restive Nature

Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to Dark Angel or to X-men. They belong respectively to Cameron/ Eglee and to Marvel Comics. No infringement is intended and this fiction is for private enjoyment only.

Rating: up to R

Chapter Rating: PG-13

Genre: Crossover

Type: action/ Romance

Pairing: Max/ Logan

Summary: Max is once again on the run. But this time a safe haven awaits her in the form of Professor Xavier's School for Gifted Children.

Spoilers/ Time line: Post the first movie, for X-men. First season for DA, starting off from Episode "Blah Blah Woof Woof"

Feedback: Always welcome!

Distribution: Ask first please.

Chapter Twenty-three

Max woke with a smile on her face. She hadn't been expecting to sleep, but it was a nice, welcome event. Normally, she needed very little to be able to function like a regular human. Perhaps a few hours a week at most. She could go much longer without. But apparently her body had decided that with Zack around, watching out for her, a relaxing, enjoyable evening and the prospect of a lot of physical activity to look forward to, it was time to shut down for a while.

Logan had left her room about two in the morning, claiming that he needed some sleep and didn't want to wear out his welcome. She hadn't protested, because she had still, while enjoying tearing apart the shows they'd ended up watching, was wondering just how he had realized that Zack had been in her room. He obviously had a heightened sense of smell. She was very aware of her brother's scent, but that was normal things for him. Was it a mutant thing? Or just a Logan's mutation thing? She wasn't sure if she could ask, since they hadn't really been delving into the deep of late. In that way, anyway.

And then there was the wondering about his expectations. He had said that he wanted a private good night. Had he been expecting something more before that little snafu? Did he change his mind because he'd though that she'd had another guy stashed away? Or was a friendly good night all he'd been thinking of in the first place?

She had finished showering, dressing and just in general, being ready for the day. But a glance at the time told her that she was probably way early. She was debating about heading out herself, just for a quick spin around town, or if she should settle in and wait for the others, when there was a knock at her hotel room door.

Coming out of the bedroom swiftly, she wondered if the others were earlier risers than she had thought of them. But a glance through the peephole showed her that it was an employee of the hotel on the other side. She opened her door to him, peeking out. The male, looking to be in his mid thirties, smiling down at her.

"Good morning Miss Guevara," the man greeted. She couldn't see his name tag, but beside him, she noted the cart. He caught the direction of her glance and gestured down to it. "A complimentary breakfast to start your morning."

"Oh," she murmured. She didn't know the service was that good here. And the scents of bacon and other goodies was wafting to her nose. She pulled the door open, quite sure that she could handle herself, should this prove to be a ruse of some sort. "Come in."

She opened the door wider while the employee, who once he had moved his arm, she discovered was named Rick, easily moved the wheeled trolley into her room. He brought it over to the small table and transferred several covered dishes to the table. Max watched for a moment and then dug into her winning from the evening before so that she had a tip ready. Rick, once done, turned to her and held out a folded slip of paper. With a puzzled glance, she took it from him and flipped it open.

_Max, _(she read)

_Sorry about last night. Didn't mean to be an ass, so when I heard you up and about, thought you might enjoy this. _

_Logan_

Her face softened into a smile and she absentmindedly held out the tip to Rick. He accepted it with a chuckle and then busied himself removing the cart from her room. He wished her a good day and pulled the door shut behind himself. Max glanced from the card to the table that was before her. She leaned over to open the black and gold carafe and sighed appreciatively when the thick curl of the scent of coffee swirled up around her. Pleased, she continued exploring what Logan had thought that she would enjoy. There was the expected bacon, chopped into omelets and served with a generous helping of cheese oozing out from them. There was some fruit and toast and under another tray some fruity little pastries. They all looked bite sized and Max wrinkled her nose up at them. The things rich people enjoyed, she giggled to herself as she shook her head.

It was at that point, when she was trying to decide what she wanted to try first, that she noticed that instead of single servings, there was quite a bit. The suspicion grew as she caught sight of two plates, two cups and the corresponding utensils. Before she could even begin to decided how she would respond, there was another knock at the door. Still holding the card he had written, Max grinned, then wiped it from her face with effort, adopting a serious mien before she yanked the door open. She had to force herself not to allow her jaw to drop.

Logan stood before her, a hopeful look on his face, his hands behind his back in a pose quite similar to a repentant child. She stared up at him for a moment, hanging on to the door and not giving him space to move into the room without forcing her back or getting right in her face. He was as freshly washed as she and there was something about the casual way that he had seemed to just throw on some jeans and a button up shirt with the sleeves rolled up a quarter of the way on his forearms. The dusty familiar boots completed the ensemble and she looked up at him and then slowly held the note aloft, quirking an eyebrow as she did.

But instead of pouting, smirking, apologizing further, or any of the thousand responses he could have made, he pulled one that she hadn't even thought of. His right arm moved and very carefully, maneuvered to his front so that she could see what he was holding. There was a very pretty pink flower, she knew that it wasn't a rose and that was about the extent of her knowledge o f flower specimens. It was placed in a clear glass bottle, that looked like a juice bottle you'd get out of a vending machine. There was some water in it and Max moved her eyes from regarding it, back to him.

"To go with your breakfast," he half shrugged with a gentle smile on his face.

"Uh huh," she sighed. "You know, two plates? Kind of presumptive of you," she pointed out and then Logan did grin. He moved his left hand in a repeat of his right and suddenly there was another flower, this one yellow, in the same manner.

"For my room," he explained with a tiny laugh. And then Max was unable to hold back her giggles.

"Oh get in here," she ordered him, stepping back. Logan, seeming very much relieved, moved into the room and over to the table, setting his last contribution down. Max pushed the door shut and spun on her heel to move after him. "You know, I wasn't all that upset about last night."

"Yeah," Logan nodded as he fidgeted with the glass bottles, setting them i several places on the small table that was already loaded down before he seemed to change his mind and moved them out of the way completely. "But I figured it still didn't hurt to let you know that I hadn't intended any slight. I'm not real good at apologies so I figured I'd let my actions speak for me."

"By ordering for me, or picking pretty flowers at..." Max began and then looked quizzically at him. "What time did you get up and do that?" Logan shrugged.

"Went for a short run this morning," he told her. "Clear my head a little. Found them on the way back. Thought you might like them. Wasn't actually sure. You don't strike me as the type..." he trailed off.

Max smiled as he faltered and took a seat before dividing the plates, settling one before her and one at the other chair. Logan moved to join her. "I couldn't say if I am or not," she mused, her lips twisting slightly as she tried with complete success, to recall if anyone had ever given her flowers. One of her old "boyfriends" which was actually just a heat hook up had bought her a small bouquet of daisies once. And since she had not been interested in a relationship with the guy, she had ended up throwing the flowers out the window so that he'd get the idea. She kind of regretted that, since flowers could be expensive and the little white and yellow flowers had been very brightening. She came back to herself and shrugged one shoulder. "I've only ever gotten flowers once. But all my girlfriends moon over that kind of stuff." She grinned slyly as she began pouring coffee from the carafe for them. "I guess it depends a lot on the sender too, hmm?"

"I suppose," Logan agreed mildly. He then glanced down at the food she had uncovered. "Was this all okay? We can always order something else too."

"This looks great," Max enthused as Logan accepted a cup from her. "Although," she went on, gesturing quickly to the plate of assorted mini pastries, "I'm not so sure about what those are supposed to be."

"The menu said mini assorted pastries," Logan shrugged. "It was new and different, so I figured, why not."

"All right then," Max nodded and with her tacit consent, they began divvying up the food. The meal was excellently prepared and the pastries turned out to be exactly what they were purported to be. The fillings were what varied and when Logan discovered just how much she liked the lemon and the cherry ones, he always pushed them towards her side of the plate. Max laughingly protested, but Logan shrugged. Food was food to him. Didn't need to be anything fancy, just plenty of it for his metabolism. She got that and they talked between bouts of eating.

They covered, touching lightly on so many subjects and were currently chatting about Logan thinking about replacing the truck and camper topper that he had had before joining the school group. She had been about to ask him where he would like to visit or travel to when she noticed that he was staring at her face, his eyes glowing and a smirk slowly growing.

"What?" she demanded softly, worried instantly that she had something on her face.

"It's nothing," he denied instantly, eyes dropping to his plate.

"No seriously," Max grunted. "Do I have egg on my face?" That made him laugh, deep and low and he was shaking his head. "Cheese?" she asked next, feeling a little silly as she began reciting the ingredients of their omelets as he continued to laugh.

"No darlin'," he finally gasped out. "I'd have told you long before now if you did."

"Oh, well that thought's appreciated," Max sighed as she held her coffee cup before her. "So why with the staring?"

"I was just thinking," Logan mused, his upper lip curling slightly, "that I really am a simple guy." The lift of her eyebrows as she took a drink invited him to explain further. "Sitting here, eating breakfast, just talking, I'm just... happy."

Max lowered her cup and recalled her conversation with Jean from the previous day. "Would it surprise you that I'm pretty much the same?" she teased. He shook his head instantly.

"Not at all," he agreed instantly, the happy look on his face still in place. "You strike me as the type to appreciate the basic things in life first and all the rest, if it's there, great, if not, you'll survive."

"Pretty much," Max agreed with a small nod. "Like this weekend for example."

"What about it?" Logan wondered. Max shrugged again.

"Out of everything so far," she murmured, and then gestured at the table, "this is what I'm enjoying the most."

"Breakfast?" he asked, slanting her an amused look and she laughed.

"It was good, but I guess," she explained, "it's more just spending time doing the things I like with no pressures. It's always good when I can have days like that."

"I know what you mean," Logan nodded, and there was silence for a few minutes as they regarded one another. And then the previous thread of conversation was brought up once more and they just kept on relaxing.

Logan had just been asking her opinion on where they should go after their planned excursion to the museum. If there were any special places from when she had visited before, like the Empire States building, or what was left of it. In the middle of that question, there was another knock on the door, accompanied by Jean's voice, softly calling through the barrier, Max's name.

Max grinned as she glanced at the time and then at Logan. They were long since finished eating and were lingering over some of the brochures tat the hotel had included in it's information packet that was in each room. They'd been talking over the differences of Central Park from pre-pulse to now. Essentially, with it's crime rate still high and various daytime attractions in place, it hadn't changed all that much.

Max pushed herself out of her seat and made her way to the door, as Logan leaned his elbows on the table and watched her. She opened the door wide to see that both Jean and Scott were up and dressed for going out.

Jean smiled at Max and then caught sight of Logan. But she allowed no surprise, pleasure or any other emotion to cross her face. Scott was a different matter once he finally made it into Max's room with her silent invitation of stepping back out of their way.

"Do you guys want some coffee?" Max asked politely. "I think there's some left." She tried to ignore the staring contest that was suddenly occurring between Logan and Scott. One was amused while the other was not.

"Actually," Jean shook her head, "Scott and I were going to invite you guys to come with us to this little cafe that makes really good Danishes. You don't want to get them later since they're best in the morning. But if you've already eaten..." she trailed off as Logan instantly broke off his smirking taunting of Scott, who did not look pleased, and she was surprised by that strange role reversal. She knew she would resolve to ask Scott about it later. But she assumed for the moment that it was a male territory thing, or something like that.

The other pair in their foursome exchanged glances and as one, both chuckled and said together, to Jean, "I could go for some Danishes." Upon realizing that they had spoken as one, the laughter broke out in earnest. There seemed to be some deeper joke there, aside from the obvious, since they'd seemed to have just finished eating.

"Okay," she spoke slowly, finding their laughter infectious and with one watchful eye on Scott, finding him relaxing slowly, and the other on the pair before her.

"Just let me grab my jacket," Max told them as she began to turn away and Logan broke out into fresh chuckles.

"I was just about to say that," he explained. And the pair chuckled again, while Max shook her head in resignation.

Logan watched as Max moved around the room, looking completely natural as she asked Jean about where she and Scott had been planning, if they had, to go sightseeing. Jean was pretty laid back about it all and Scott was following her lead for the most part. It was all up to Max and Logan was fine by that.

After they had settled down the evening before and he had found something that he thought they'd both find interesting, old reruns of a motorcycle building reality show, things had gone well. The show had ended and they'd continued on the with more reality shows that had Max delighted and providing a biting commentary that nearly had Logan in stitches. But along about two in the morning, he felt himself getting tired, more from the time and the day, not from her company.

He also hadn't wanted to push his luck, ending up sleeping in her room, even if it was just on her sofa. There was a line that hadn't fully been defined between them and this weekend was a good time to explore it, but not push it. Logan didn't want the whole thing to topple before it had even begun. As he'd returned to his room, he wondered what he could do to prevent that. He'd already had a few close calls, he realized, with his behavior when she had first shown up at the mansion and his defensiveness around her. While he understood it and it was explainable to newcomers and outsiders, it still wasn't always easy to take.

And so, once he was in bed, the sheets still not having been aired out enough, he distracted himself, thinking of ways that he could make that evening's little blunder up to her. Of course, thinking along those lines got him thinking about the problem as it had occurred to him. How it might be viewed by her. And who the hell it was in Max's room. And his worry that whomever it was, might just be one of these bad guys from her life that she purported was after her. Knowing that his instincts wouldn't allow him to sleep through something bad happening in his vicinity, and he could pretty much count the entire hotel floor as his vicinity, he had dropped off.

The dream that came was most definitely a dream. It was not a memory, he knew that as soon as consciousness had flooded his mind. But the dream had seemed to take on many elements of his worst fears from the dreams he had had before, of the time that he had lost. That little girl's face was prevalent in the dream. But surrounded by many more children just like her. But when Logan had tried to help them, locked away as they were, he could see that there were differences among them. Gender and height were the most obvious among them. But there were other things, scents, sounds, the yelling in unison. Things had swirled and flowed, through the memories and important moments that he'd had in the last decade plus. Of when he'd first woken up, confused and alone, through the fights and nights of insanity. Rediscovering his mutant otherness. The Pulse and traveling. More fighting as always, even up to his introduction to the X-men and rescuing Rogue.

It was as if that little girl and those other children followed him everywhere. Watching him, imploring him, but otherwise not interfering in his life. Like they were not strong enough, quite, to haunt him, until now. Was the little girl just a precursor? Was she really just a figment, instead of a real piece to the puzzle of his life as he had believed? Perhaps she was just a representational figure. The little girl Logan had always feared might be out there, though it didn't have to be a girl, per se. A child that, because of what had happened or been done to him, he might never know of.

These were the questions that began to plague him the moment he woke, surprisingly calm. That had been a relief, that he hadn't shredded sheets or destroyed furniture. He already ran that risk too many times when he forgot his weight and reinforced frame and dropped himself into furniture that wasn't made for it. With the realization of how early it was and the fact that he was sure that he wouldn't be able to reclaim the state of sleep anytime soon, prompted Logan to get out of the hotel for a while.

He hadn't bothered to change out of the sleepwear he had been in. He simply added some socks and his sneakers once more, adding a hoodie and then headed out for a jog. He could care less about the neighborhood they were in. And since he wasn't a minority, he figured he had little to fear from overeager cops looking for a little action to liven up their morning.

He didn't find any answers to the questions, as usual. He did wonder if there was any way they could research army bases that might house children. He figured to put that question to Chuck, if the man didn't read it from him, or if it hadn't already occurred to him. The man had some surprising contacts, perhaps someone in government that they could trust to look into this. Even that thought had Logan shuddering. It reinforced his belief that it was government, or the military at their behest, preforming experiments on him.

With the best resolution he had at the moment, applied to these thoughts once more, and as he was making his way back to the hotel, Logan's thoughts turned back to Max. When he spotted the small planter of flowers and the fact that they didn't seem like they were being tended any longer, since the planter was also rife with some weedy looking dregs, Logan had liberated them without any guilt. Back in the motel, he had purchased some bottles of juice to gulp down and with a plan in mind to make up for his ass-like behavior, headed back up to his room. He was about ready to hop in the shower, when he had heard Max moving around her room. He had continued to listen, hoping that she wasn't having a nightmare like she had had before. But as the sounds moved through her room, he realized that she had just risen early, as he had.

With a happy grin, he had enacted his plan, figuring the prep work would take just long enough for him to get ready. And he had been correct.

He had shown up on her door step as it were, trying his best for repentant and while Max had looked seriously upset, he could tell that she wasn't. With his best guess, she was fighting not to smile and when he had offered up that second flower and the glib comment, she had broken and invited him back in. And through the course of the meal, to be honest, he hadn't really cared what he had been eating, it was the company that he had enjoyed most. When he had admitted that to her, he cold see the pleasure that had lit up her eyes when she admitted to the same thing. But he hadn't needed to hear it from her, he could see it in everything in her. Her body, her eyes, the tone of voice that she used. Even when she was being witty, sarcastic, teasing, there had been pleased undertones that told ll his senses that she was happy to be there. Not there there, in a hotel in New York, but just sharing simple pleasures with him.

Being with her... the past didn't seem to matter. Not the way it always had seemed to before. Logan knew that this was just his feeling though. He could not predict how she would react to all the long held secrets he kept. To his fears and worries. But he still had the sense that she would understand at least. Or keep an open mind. As long as he was honest and went slow, to let her in... It was a heart clenching prospect and he realized, as he sat there watching her, listening to Jean and Scott moving closer to them, prepared for the interruption, to realize that he was going to willingly invite this woman in closer.

When Max had admitted the other couple and Logan had sensed Jean's wariness at the interruption and Scott's over protective vibe, directed in all the wrong assumptions, of course, he could only smirk. The kid was great for championing the underdog. But he made too many of those assumptions when it came to Logan. Simply because they were very different people and Scott was basing his assessment off of his own code of conduct and rules of behavior. It was misplaced at best. Scott didn't realize that they were now in quite the same boat. Instead of having once been uneven rivals for Jeans attention, they were now at the mercy of caring for another person, perhaps more than they cared for themselves.

When he caught Jean's speculative look in his direction, he wondered only momentarily what she might have caught from his mind this time. But it didn't really matter. She would only see bits and pieces, not the whole of it, but he had the feeling that she was canny enough to figure it out quickly, if she hadn't already. But judging from the smile gracing her face as she turned her attention back to the girl in question, she was on the right track. At least more than her boyfriend was.

Max returned from grabbing and donning her coat. Logan had quickly piled up the used dishes, knowing that housekeeping would clean up while they were gone. He needed to grab is coat as well. He ignored Scott's slightly confused sigh when Max made a quip about fueling up even more since she planned on walking their asses off that day. Jean hooked her arm through Max's and announced that they would meet the boys downstairs, so Logan could get what he needed. The females swept out the door, already giggling with one another and Logan felt absurdly pleased that his two favorite women, because honestly, Rogue was still just a kid, were getting along so well.

Standing from the table, he paused for just a moment and then smirked. "Whatever your thinkin' Stretch, don't bother."

"I'm just wondering if this...," Scott began, his lips twisting slightly as he turned his head to survey Max's room, "is really the best... course. It's not like Max's stay is going to be... permanent."

Logan shrugged. He hadn't been talking idly earlier when he mentioned finding another means of travel. The mansion, Chuck, that had been convenient. A place to rest his head and recoup when needed. But it wasn't home to him. At some point down the road it could have been. And while yes, he still wanted answers to the questions of his past, he had a new path to follow, should he choose, wherever she led. But, as he pulled the door to her room shut behind him, he realized that he was kind of putting cart before horse. There were steps to this and he would do well to pay attention to them.

"Who the hell said mine was gonna be either?" was his only parting shot before he slipped into his own room, leaving a slightly frustrated X-man in his wake.


	24. Chapter 24

Title: The Glory Of Manticore

Author: Restive Nature

Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to Dark Angel or to X-men. They belong respectively to Cameron/ Eglee and to Marvel Comics. No infringement is intended and this fiction is for private enjoyment only.

Rating: up to MA

Chapter Rating: PG-13

Genre: Crossover

Type: action/ Romance

Pairing: Max/ Logan

Summary: Max is once again on the run. But this time a safe haven awaits her in the form of Professor Xavier's School for Gifted Children.

Spoilers/ Time line: Post the first movie, for X-men. First season for DA, starting off from Episode "Blah Blah Woof Woof"

Feedback: Always welcome!

Distribution: Ask first please.

Chapter Twenty-four

"So you and Logan seemed pretty cozy this morning," Jean noted as she and Max entered the elevator. Max threw a sidelong glance at the woman, recognizing immediately the dig for information. There were all of the possibilities about what they thought might have been going on. The obvious glaring one, right there before them, but Max figured that they could think what they liked. It wasn't really any of their business what she and Logan were doing in their free, private time. But at the same time, there was something teasing in Jean's tone that was supporting those things precisely.

"Yeah," she finally decided on. "Things get that way when a guy acts like a complete ass, his words not mine, the night before and then arranges for breakfast and flowers as an apology, first thing in the morning."

"I saw that," Jean noted as the elevator began its descent. "They were pretty."

"And stolen," Max giggled. "At least I think they were. He didn't say. Just that he found them when he went for a run."

"Logan runs?" Jean was slightly startled at that new tidbit being dropped on her. Max shrugged. She hadn't known that either, but then, she also hadn't known Logan as long as the other woman. Not like she had a lifetime friendship with the guy either though.

"He did this morning, according to him," she offered. "I dunno. Some people like to think while they work out. Me, I prefer hanging with my friend Cindy. She drops wit and wisdom with equal fervor whether you want it or not." The smile she gave softened any hint of criticism that might be construed from that statement.

"Do you miss her?" Jean asked plaintively and Max nodded, though she wasn't by any means choked up about it. With what Zack had told her the evening before, that situation was fairly resolved and there would not be much need to cut her best friend from her life. She'd have a little explaining to do, especially given how she felt about things right now. She wondered idly as she followed Jean out to the lobby if maybe Logan was serious about getting a truck and doing some more road tripping. That actually sounded interesting. And she wondered again if he was just telling her about his thoughts and potential plans or if he was hinting that he'd welcome company. Maybe if that was what it was, she could suggest that they amble themselves along to the west coast. She was seeing his life. Maybe at some point, he'd like to see hers.

"Where'd you go?" Jean asked, waving her hand in front of Max's face. Max grinned and ducked her chin for a moment.

"Nowhere, really," she offered. "Just thinking about things for down the road."

"Uh huh," Jean drawled. She continued to regard the other woman for a few minutes and then led them to a set of chintz upholstered seats across from the reception desk and sank down into one. Max followed suit, though they both knew that they wouldn't be long there. "So," Jean continued, "Scott and I were discussing it this morning and instead of wasting money on cabs, we figured that we'd go ahead and use the car. Is that okay with you?"

"Whatever is fine," Max replied, just as happy to drop the subject of her friends and former life for the moment. "I assume we'll take a cab tonight though?"

"Of course," Jean grinned. "Actually, I was pretty happy when I called to get us a table."

"Oh?" Max asked with polite interest and Jean was almost vibrating.

"An old friend of Scott and mine is going to be performing tonight," Jean announced. Max's eyebrows went up at that announcement, but otherwise, found nothing personally for her to get excited about. "We had thought that she was going on hiatus, but this is actually one of her last performances."

"Oh, well that's cool," Max smiled in reaction to Jean's enthusiasm rather than anything else. "How did you meet her?"

"We went to school together," Jean explained and then laughed at Max's expression. "No, not there. University."

"Oh, okay," Max sighed. And then rolled her eyes. "Not that the other would be a problem for me."

"I know," Jean acknowledged. It was something that had impressed her. That Max had had very little problem dealing with the mutants at the school. Both she and the professor had noted that Max had some tension when initially confronted by a mutant that didn't conform to human looks, but it was quickly lost as she relaxed around the child or teen in question. It was something that they had seen in others of the non-mutant populace and she actually recovered herself much more quickly than others had. Some of those others, even a lot of the families hadn't bothered to try and get past the outer facade at all. Max had. And the tension had never returned, or plagued her at other times. So they believed that Max truly had little to no problem with mutants.

One of the few regular humans they had found like that. But then, Jean reminded herself, she couldn't judge all non mutants by what she had endured when her powers had first started emerging. Her parents, scared of her and thinking that she was ill. People in her neighborhood whispering about her and crossing the street to avoid walking by her. Even as a teen and adult, she'd had to feel and deal. She knew without a doubt that things for mutant human relations would not change drastically in her lifetime, no matter the optimism of Charles or others. But that certainly didn't mean that she wouldn't work and try on this path that she was committed to. It just occurred to her, that having someone like Max on their side was better for them in the long run.

The elevator banks dinged an arrival chime that was heard, quiet as it was, across the lobby and both women turned their attention to that area. Scott and then Logan emerged from the elevator. Scott was still frowning as he had been earlier, and Jean felt the worry transmuting through the bond that they shared. But he shook his head minutely at her and she knew he would talk to her about it later.

Logan on the other hand, looked amused, eager and completely at ease. All three things were not all that familiar to Jean when it came to that specific man. The only amusement she had seen from him was when he watched her or Scott squirming under the probing double talk he'd engaged them in, those early days of knowing him. She chanced a glance at the last of their foursome and found that Max, was just as relaxed and bemused looking as her counterpart in this trip was. She smiled to herself and decided that whatever Scott concerns were, they would be dealt with in ample time.

"I wonder what's going on," Scott murmured as he finally found a parking spot on the street, several blocks down from the Museum of Modern Art. There had been quite the crowd and all four had been mystified at the number of people.

"I suppose we'll find out," Jean murmured as she undid her seatbelt. Logan was already out of the car and offering a hand to Max, who was silent as she took it. But then she turned with a half smile to regard the other couple.

"Probably the first day or so of a new exhibit," she surmised. "Or it's one of the museums free admission days."

"Could be," Jean agreed with a shrug. She turned back to her boyfriend. "We'll have to remember to check on stuff like that." Scott gave a nod and moved around the front end of the car after engaging the automatic locks and depositing his keys in his pocket. The foursome moved at a brisk pace down the street and joined the throng before the museum. Once they were close enough, they could see the sign, announcing as Max had predicted, a new exhibit.

"Oh my goodness," Jean gasped. "I can't believe we didn't hear anything about this!"

"Uh, it's not the sort of thing I'd advertise," Max grimaced as she glanced around the crowd.

"True," Scott agreed as he shared her long looks at the people around them, feeling uncomfortable with the level of enthusiasm, as well as a small group of people off to the side holding signs of protest.

"Well, either we go in or we leave," Logan offered, wishing right about then that he had a cigar. "Up to you," he shrugged, addressing the group as a whole, but looking to Max.

She shrugged in response. "I'd kind of like to see what the fuss is about," she decided and Scott and Jean slowly responded similarly. "After all, I haven't had much chance to see this stuff. Once in a lifetime opportunity, right?" she smiled at Jean and the redhead nodded, rubbing just once at the temple on the opposite side of where Scott was standing. Max didn't miss it though and as Logan and Scott took up the lead before them, being the larger of the group they were more easily able to work through the crowd. Especially as people unconsciously gave in to their desire to edge away from the dangerous vibes that Logan seemed to give off naturally.

"Mmm," Jean murmured as she picked up one of the brochures offered and showed it to Scott. "I'm not sure it would be wise to bring some of the students to this exhibit."

Scott studied the colorful paper depicting the artworks on loan from the Hermitage in Russia. "I think I know who you mean," he nodded. There was silent communication between them for a moment.

Max noting this, paused for a moment. "Do you really think that the issue of these paintings having been recovered from the Nazis will affect students as young as yours?" she asked, picking up her own _"Hidden Treasures Revealed and Shared"_ pamphlet. Logan, as soon as she asked that question, recognized what the problem was and why there was such excitement over the exhibit that day.

"You're right," he grunted as he glanced around the inner lobby as tour guides were organizing the smaller groupings for the staggered tours. "This would be a security nightmare."

There was agreement, seeing all the guards lined around the building. They joined in with one of the guided tours that was organized and followed along as the group headed directly towards the featured exhibit. In all, there were twelve paintings on loan from the Russian Museum, all with their own individual state of the art security as well as posted guards at regular heavily intervals.

It was when they came to the celebrated _Place de la Concorde_ by Degas, that Logan started paying closer attention. As the tour guide droned on, going on about what the painting represented and where it had been found and how the Hermitage still did not know the full provenance of the piece, or at least had not made any information or suspicions they had available to the public. But Logan was not listening. He already knew this and the daunting question of how and why he knew this was instantly preying on his mind.

He moved along by rote with the rest of the group, but paused at the edge of the painting, as close as he was able to go and stared up at it.

"Logan?" Max's voice broke into his reverie, quietly concerned. She had been concerned about Jean as well, knowing the problems that the woman had seemed to be having with large crowds. It was exacerbated by the flux of emotions around her and Max was on the verge of suggesting they leave. After all, looking at a painting and looking at a picture of the painting through other sources was about the same for her. But then Logan's sudden disquiet caught her attention. "Everything okay?"

Logan broke off his stare with the portrait of Vicomte Lepic and the others to turn his head. He shook it slightly. "Deja vu," he muttered, knowing that it wasn't a very good explanation. But he couldn't explain it. He knew, absolutely knew, that he had done this before. Stood before this painting, staring up at it, absorbed by the lone stranger in the left of the painting. The only difference he could feel was the play of lights over the canvas to highlight the special celebration of the piece finally being allowed on American soil. It was an unprecedented move from the Hermitage and MoMA was playing it up for all they were worth. "Never mind," he muttered and tried to muster a grin for her. But it seemed, she wasn't fooled.

"We don't have to stay," she offered as they turned to catch up with the rest of their group.

"Don't worry about me," Logan shrugged gallantly. "It was just... a moment." He tried to dismiss said moment and it seemed as if Max would allow it. But then she touched on his bicep lightly, gesturing with a dip of her chin to the couple ahead of them.

"It's not just you," she spoke lowly, but he heard her quite clearly. "It's Jean too. I think the crowd might be too much for her."

Instead of answering, Logan took a moment to assess Jean, as he realized that he hadn't done that, at all, lately. She was there and he supposed that he had been seeing what he wanted to see. But now, she was quiet, her smile tight whenever Scott spoke to her. She was also paler than usual, having to stop herself short from flinching when there was loud laughter or exclamations. "I think you're right. You sure? You and Scott could go on..." he trailed off, not too thrilled with his own suggestion, but it was the right one to make.

Especially with that smile and little chuckle that she gave. She glanced around at the framed masterpieces on display and the crowds moving about in little groups. There was a small sigh, but he couldn't sense any regret from her. "I figured that it wouldn't hurt anything to come, take a look, but," she paused and shrugged, "not exactly my cup of tea. I'll survive leaving."

"All right darlin'," Logan smiled back at her with a little relief. To be honest, with the crowds, concern that was no more than what a normal friend would feel for Jean and this revelation, if only to himself that there was possibly yet another memory plaguing his mind, hovering just out of reach, he was more than ready to leave as well. Of course, Scott and Jean might protest, but Jean's mental well being was more important than getting their money's worth out of the admission fee.

As it turned out, Scott had taken note of Jean's mild discomfort right from the get go and admitted that he had been about to bring up their stepping out of the tour altogether. He had no problem with Logan and Max continuing the tour, but upon hearing that they were ready to go as well, decided that they'd had enough. Skirting around the milling groups was easy enough since no one was hampering their way to the exit. As long as they didn't move too close to the exhibits people were trying to view they were fine.

Once they were back out on the streets, Jean inhaled deeply and glanced wistfully back at the museum. "And that insanity will be going on for the next month," she murmured with a shake of her head.

"Mmm," Max nodded. "Concern over ethnic prejudices and slights aside, I don't think this will get any better. I doubt the students would enjoy it that much."

"I agree," Scott sighed. "Not many of the students are very enthusiastic art aficionados."

"So it's an acquired taste," Logan agreed as the group very carefully avoided the peacefully protesting faction that were being monitored by a small group of police officers. Logan noted how Max ducked her head, avoiding eye contact until they were about halfway down the block when suddenly she stopped short.

"Oh shoot!" she exclaimed and the other three turned to look back at her. She was quickly moving her hands through her pockets, concerned.

"Problem?" Scott asked first, several feet away from her, holding Jean's hand as the woman leaned slightly against him. Max chewed on her lower lip for a moment and then her shoulders sagged a little.

"I grabbed my room key, didn't I?" she asked of Jean. The redhead furrowed her brows for a moment as she recalled earlier. But then she nodded.

"You made sure that you had it along with your cash and your keys," Jean confirmed.

"Well it's missing now," Max sighed, holding up her empty hands. They all knew that it was never a smart idea to be flashing any amount of cash around. "And I had it at the cafe. It must have slipped out of my pocket in the museum."

"The hotel will provide you with a new one," Scott informed her quietly and Max nodded.

"But for a fee," she agreed and then rolled her eyes. "I'll run back in and see if someone found it. They've got a lost and found, I'm sure."

"Well here, take this," Scott grinned as he dug into his inner coat pocket and pulled out a receipt. "So you don't get charged again."

Max took it with a little laugh. "I won't be going all in, but yeah, just in case. Be right back, or should I just meet you at the car?"

"I can wait," Logan offered, eying Jean and Scott for a moment. Something like understanding passed between them and Scott gestured down the street.

"Jean and I will get the car," he decided. The group separated and Logan moved out of the way for any other pedestrian as he watched Max move swiftly back to the museum.

It wasn't a perfect set up, but since she knew that Zack was being his typical, usual, paranoid self, it was the best excuse she had come up with. There was no way in hell that she was going to drop her cash or the keys to her baby where any old jerk could pick them up. As Scott had said, the hotel could provide another key card and she wasn't concerned about someone getting into her hotel room.

After she shouldered her way through the crowd that was still milling at the door, waiting for their turn to get in, she was met by the security guards at the entry. She smiled widely and with wide eyed innocence, showed the guard the receipt Scott had provided and a quick explanation that she had lost her hotel key, the security guard had given her a polite, disinterested smile and opened the door for her.

She moved into the lobby and veered off towards the gift shop, whee she knew her brother would be waiting. And as she had thought, he was standing before the book selection, perusing the vast amount of volumes dedicated to different artists, well known and local that the MoMA had featured over the years.

"Hey Zack" she greeted easily as she came to a stop next to him. He held up her card between the first two fingers of his right hand.

"Drop something?" he teased.

"Thanks," she murmured, as she took it from him and slipped it back into her pocket. "News?"

"My guy, Flea is set to meet tonight," he murmured, still not turning to look at her full on. Max wanted to snort at his precautions. No one around here was going to take notice of their conversation. "What are your plans?"

"All four of us are going to a blues club," Max answered with a sigh. Some days she wished it didn't have to be like this. But, you had to live the hand you were dealt. Or make the changes you could. But she had already tried butting heads with Zack. It wasn't worth it.

"Address?" he demanded in clipped tones that had Max rolling her eyes. But she provided it nonetheless. Sometimes being what she was sucked, but at other times... Being able to pull of these little child's play moments was exactly that and for the most part, wouldn't amuse. But just occasionally they did. Not like it had been hard. A simple question or two to Jean about where the club was and cover charges and she was able to relate it all to her brother.

"We'll meet you out back at midnight," Zack finally decided as he reached to pull one of the books off the shelves. He actually looked interested in it, which surprised Max. Yes, they had talked a few times, but she had the sense, suddenly, that she really didn't know him.

"Or you could come along," she offered on the spur of the moment. It was something that had fomented in the back of her mind, but had Zack scoffing immediately.

"You know why I can't," he shook his head.

"Why you won't," she countered immediately, softly, but still the hurt colored her tone. It wasn't a given, but a choice he was making. And yes she understood the possible security ramifications of their being seen together too often or at too long of a time. But in her mind, they were negligible. Not so for the quintessential big brother though.

"Max, we've been over this already," he warned.

"Yeah," she snarked immediately. "Because the world's gonna end if Zack let's his hair down for two seconds and actually meets some of his sister's-!" she was about to say friends, but thought better of it. After all the arguments, she knew how stubborn Zack was. "Acquaintances," she finished when she noted his eyes sliding towards her suspiciously. "You know what? Never mind. I know the score. I'll see you tonight. Am I bringing the goods?"

"Bring something so Flea knows what you deal in," Zack instructed, settling the book he'd glanced over the synopsis of, back on the shelf and turning away. "Midnight Max."

"Yeah, I got it," she sighed and watched with sad eyes as Zack strolled out of her life for yet another time. It didn't matter that they had plans to meet later. It seemed that it was destiny that he was forever leaving her. And it didn't sit well with her. Perhaps that was why she had finally, those few years ago, given into the urge to stop, to stay, to find something a little more permanent. It obviously had not been without it's difficulties, but if pressed to say, Max was finding that for the most part, they were worth it.

Taking a moment to shake the disconcerting melancholia that surrounded her spirit, Max chose the book the Zack had been looking at. How strange, she noted. It was a book on Degas. Hadn't that been the painting that had given Logan his deja vu moment? On impulse she carried the book to the cashier who was polite and enthused over the painting that was by Degas, on loan from the Hermitage, asking Max if she'd seen it yet. Max replied that she had and pulled the proper amount of cash from her pocket to pay for it. She waited for her change and then for the girl to produce a paper bag for the coffee table sized book.

Feeling slightly better, Max returned the girls farewell and headed out of the book shop. Back to the lobby and then out to the crowd that had thinned even more as people were getting into the building for their turn at a viewing. Max jogged down the steps, easily avoiding those coming up and when she reached the last step, she glanced up and saw that Logan was still waiting right where she had left him.

"So that's what took so long, huh?" he grinned, gesturing at the bag when she was close enough. Max glanced down and then nodded.

"Little impulse buy," she agreed. "And I got my card back from the lost and found. So it's all good." Logan nodded and Max momentarily preoccupied with switching the bag to her other hand so that it wouldn't be bumping Logan's leg as they walked to the car, completely missed how his nostrils flared, his eyes widened and how Logan went from dangerous to deadly between one breath and the next.


	25. Chapter 25

Title: The Glory Of Manticore

Author: Restive Nature

Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to Dark Angel or to X-men. They belong respectively to Cameron/ Eglee and to Marvel Comics. No infringement is intended and this fiction is for private enjoyment only.

Rating: up to MA

Chapter Rating: PG-13

Genre: Crossover

Type: action/ Romance

Pairing: Max/ Logan

Summary: Max is once again on the run. But this time a safe haven awaits her in the form of Professor Xavier's School for Gifted Children.

Spoilers/ Time line: Post the first movie, for X-men. First season for DA, starting off from Episode "Blah Blah Woof Woof"

Feedback: Always welcome!

Distribution: Ask first please.

Chapter Twenty-five

The door slammed shut behind Logan, but it wasn't as if he cared. The day had already been too long in his estimate. Smiling, pretending that nothing was wrong, it just wasn't him. And he had not given in to the social expectation that just because he was pissed that he'd smile and act as if all were well.

He knew that the others were puzzled over his behavior and his fuming mind pointed out that it was all a little hypocritical. After all, why the hell should he be happy go lucky joe one hundred percent of the time? They didn't know him and shouldn't even presume that just because he'd lost the memories of the majority of his life, that it meant there were so few dimensions of him.

He had a brain that worked, truly on a different level than most, humans and mutants alike. And his senses were sharper. And Logan, though he might not have the memories, knew that he had developed logistics for dealing with anything the world seemed to throw at him. There were the basest levels that were instinct driven alone. He always listened to those. Then there was his ability to see deeper because he had more physical evidence at his fingertips. He knew that he didn't always draw the correct conclusions. But he wasn't alone in that weakness. Even the other mutants he was aligned with at the moment carried that fallacy. Like trusting Max. Believing whatever crap she'd fed them, and the professor.

Chuck had said that she needed safe haven. From what, neither had been too clear on. That was fine, Logan figured, because he had secrets as well. They all did and it was their right to decide when, where and with whom to share. But what Logan had trouble abiding were hypocrites and two faced people. And after the debacle at the museum that morning, he was trying to decided exactly what the hell was going on and why.

Because the scent that Max had scoffed at the night before? It was there again. Faint, like it had blown through her hair, lingering around her like a lover's ghostly caress. Just the scent of one moment of it had Logan wanting to drive his fist through something, preferably a somebody, repeatedly. And while he knew on a basic level why, he didn't know how the depth of commitment to what his senses and more primal self, had developed.

She was his!

And the few coherent thoughts that had warped through his brain in dizzying speeds as they had made their way to Central Park for Max's amusement, didn't make him feel better. There were very few options that seemed like they could be at play here. The first was that this person or whatever it was that was chasing Max down was not an ordinary human because with the closeness of the timing of the scent, she would have caught on. She had insisted that no one was in her room the night before. It was entirely possible that whomever was tracking her down had gotten close to her that morning as well.

But what Logan was unsure about was the fact that if Max were in trouble and it was this male person or possibly thing, that was getting way too close for comfort, why hadn't he taken her? Grabbed her, turned her in or whatever was necessary to the situation. Of course, not knowing the situation, Logan could not adequately judge.

The male's scent still held an elusive unknown qualityin some dimensions. It seemed like Max's. But it was not a sibling or familial scent. That played back to Logan's wondering if Max were a mutant in denial. Sometimes they ran across powers that were very similar in their scope. But he had little to go on. Perhaps it was a brother, and he was the mutant, though she might have mentioned it. Logan had no clue whether a mutation could change the base scent a person was born with, but all things possible and all that. But something in his gut told Logan that it wasn't. For one thing, the other tinge to the scent of this unknown male that was infringing on what Logan's primal senses had claimed, was a possessiveness that he was finding abhorrent.

Prowling around the room wasn't accomplishing anything and eventually Logan ended up flat out on his bed, staring up at the ceiling. Wondering, thinking back over the relatively few days that they had all known Max. Surely the professor would have said something to protect, if no one else, his students, if the situation Max was running from was really bad. He kept trying to remove his own self from the situation but it was proving impossible. Because he really didn't want to be thinking what he was starting to think. That Max knew exactly who it was that had been in her room, had been covering for him and had met him again today. And not by accident either.

Had she agreed to this whole trip just so that she could meet with _him_?

The only thing, the very simple thing that had kept Logan from saying any of this to her was the simple fact was that he was scared. Scared that if he was wrong, it would screw things up totally between them. And he wanted, no, he needed to be with her, in whatever form it was. He could no more walk away from Max at this point, than he could rip the damn adamantium that had been grafted to his skeleton, out of his body.

Because whatever this unknown male brought to the table, she didn't return it. He could scent and sense the level of attraction Max held for the male. Recognizing it like his own. How Scott felt for Jean. But unlike Jean, when she responded to Scott, when she had responded to himself, Max had no attraction like that to the interloper.

So did that mean the girl had a stalker?

That was a new possibility that had Logan sitting up, reaching out his senses further. He could hear her, in her bathroom and the water that lapped in the basin told him, among other little signs, that she was indulging in her tub that was probably identical to the monstrosity that was in his room. Flopping back on the bed, Logan huffed softly as another not so new physical problem added itself into the mix.

He was going to be vigilant, stay quiet and when the time was right, make sure Max knew exactly what he felt. If he didn't, Logan groaned, then she was probably gonna find a way to be the death of him.

Max started shedding clothes the moment her hotel door was locked behind her. All of the walking around Central Park had been for the most part enjoyable. There'd been Logan's slight standoffish behavior after the museum. But she had attributed that distraction he carried as probably being due to his moment over that painting. Maybe some bad memories. He certainly hadn't looked carefree and happy and content as he had the evening before.

So Max had shrugged it off. Whatever it was that was bugging him wasn't really her concern or problem. He'd either figure it out and be fine or get over it and move on. So she had concentrated on enjoying herself with Scott and Jean, who had been more than happy to share some pleasant memories of being in New York when they were younger.

Away from the crowd of the museum, Jean had regained her equilibrium. Whatever headache she might have had had eased. Scott, Max had found, had an indulging side that wasn't apparent upon first meeting and it was rooted mostly in keeping Jean happy. She wondered if it had been a defense mechanism of her burgeoning powers of telepathy that she had admitted to. A smile curved her lips as she thought on that again. Relationships certainly seemed to take on an entirely new dimension when someone could read someone else's mind. And she was certainly glad that she was no more than a friendly acquaintance of the woman's. That might change down the road and Max, if she allowed that to happen, would in time get used to the facet of Jean's power that echoed Xavier's.

So even though she had had a satisfying day and was looking forward to getting out again for the evening, she also wanted to spend a little time on her own. And the best way of doing that, in Max's opinion was to indulge herself in one of her favorites. With heated water or heated anything being at a premium back in Seattle, she had indulged in hot food, water and room as much as possible.

The bath water was running as Max brought some towels over to where they were in easy reach. There was a small basket of amenities, including the obligatory hotel square of soap, tiny bottles of shampoo and conditioner and a few packets of bath salts. Tearing the corner of one, Max found it pleasant enough and added it in, watching them as they dissolved, the water swirling around the faint pink coloring that had been added to the effervesing salts.

When she slipped into the chin deep pool of water, her hair pinned atop her hair, all seemed pretty right in her world. Now all she had to do was find a few places to stash the jewels she wanted to fence in her dress or purse that night. Of course, she could simply wear the jewelry, but she was fairly certain that Logan of one of the others would notice if she were wearing it one moment, then she slipped off to the ladies room and returned without it. So it was better that it never came in contact with them.

Glad that she hadn't taken any other items, though some of the houses that she had hit up had plenty of art or small statuary, Max then turned her attention to what she should do to compliment her dress that evening. She of course, had purse and shoes and the wrap that matched the fabric of the dress. But hairs, nails, toe nails, since they were open toed strappy shoes, all of it very girly girl, needed to be decided upon. And she didn't have her best girl there to advise her. She wondered if she dared call Cindy yet.

With Zack's assertion that Seattle was no longer quite the hot spot for her, she could probably get away with contacting Cindy. But she didn't want her first phone call back to the girl to be a quick, 'how should I do my hair' convo. Her best friend and room mate deserved better than that. Perhaps Charles wouldn't mind her calling once she was back safely at the mansion. She could offer to pay the long distance fees and was sure that it would be fine. All she had to do, really, was try and channel her friend long distance.

There were certain do and don'ts that she had, of course, the main one being not to expose the bar code on the back of her neck. It was a dead giveaway to certain people that she was a transgenic. Others, she foisted off with the pretense that it was a tattoo. It wasn't and she couldn't pretend that it ever would be. Tattoos at least, could be removed... permanently. Her bar code was programmed into her genome and even if she lasered it off as one would a tattoo, it grew back eventually.

Cindy had once simply done a half up 'do for an event, a wedding that she had attended with Logan. Leaving a good number of wisps of hair to cover it had been fine. But she didn't feel that style matched the dress she had. It was either up or down. And since she had no concealer for it, down it would have to be.

As she slowly relaxed under the tension relieving heat of the water, Max let her mind drift a little. Scott had informed her that they would eat at the club. When she had evinced surprise that they did dinners, the couple had quickly explained that they didn't. But apparently, their appetizer menu was so good and varied that it would fill in nicely. Jean had offered that she could get a little room service before they left if she wasn't sure, but Max had teasingly put herself in their hands since they were the ones that were familiar with the club. They'd been more than happy to recount several of the acts that they had seen there. And some nights when it had just been a dj playing the old standbys that everyone swayed their hearts out to.

Eventually the water began to cool a little too much for her taste. And knowing that she still had other things to do to prepare for the night, Max allowed the water to drain from the tub completely, rather than refilling it with more hot water. Reaching for the fluffy, thick white towels, she dried off rapidly and wrapped another around her hair. She exited the bathroom, to the slightly cooler main room and snagged her toiletry bag as she did.

She found the body lotion that Kendra had gifted her with at Christmas time and though she usually used it sparingly on the rougher parts of her skin before bed, like her elbows, she used it more thoroughly this time. It went well, she found, with the lingering scent from the bath salts.

Once she had moisturized herself thoroughly, thinking with a smile, how impressed Cindy would be, she turned to her other ministrations. She knew that she could get away with doing her hair and make-up first, since she could shimmy the dress upwards, rather than having to pull it on over her head. So she spent several minutes playing around with her hair before deciding that it was getting long enough that she could take the curl out of it and go for a slightly more adult look than her usual carefree bounce. It wasn't so much an affected look as it was one of being too eager to get on with the day to bother doing more than washing and combing it. It usually dried in curls and since she liked them, she rarely bothered to change it up. But for this occasions, she was glad that she had brought her straightener and some product.

It took only half an hour before she had slipped everything but the last few things, her shoes and wrap on. The jewels were all stashed, several necklaces in her purse and some rings down the front of her dress. As well as an antique looking pocket watch. She was just retrieving her shoes from the bedroom closet when she heard the knock at her main door. Glancing at the clock on the bedside table, she realized that it was still early yet. Wondering who it might be, she headed out to the door to answer.

Surprisingly, it was Scott, standing waiting for her to answer the summons, grinning in an easy going manner. Max allowed her startlement to show through, even going so far as to peek over his shoulder.

"Apparently I was getting in the way of the getting dressed procedure," he offered in deference to her attitude.

"Ah," Max murmured and then stepped back, allowing his entry. "Well, that shouldn't be a problem here." She swept her hand down, gesturing to herself. "Pretty much done." She pushed the door shut and spun around to look over the lanky male. He was tall, like most of the males she was acquainted with. Skinny too, which Max understood was one of the reasons that Logan tended to call him Stretch. He did have that thin appearance, like someone had taken him to a stretching rack at some point in his life. But he didn't have that hungry lean look, like some people developed. Usually, if she thought hard about it, teens that were having growth spurts too closely together came to mind most easily for comparison.

Scott, she decided had plenty of time to grow and fill into his height well. The glasses that he wore to protect the world from his mutant power, as she understood, tended to dominate his face and she doubted many people took the time to see beyond them.

"So how near ready is Jean?" she asked as she nodded when Scott hovered by the sofa. He seated himself, his frame sinking just slightly into the material.

"I'm sure she's ready enough," Scott sighed. "I think it was more the subject matter I was, and I quote 'prattling on about' that was starting to bother her." he informed her, looking a little sheepish. "She pushed me out the door and told me to tell it to someone whom it mattered to."

"Ah," Max nodded as she carried her hairbrush to the bathroom. She left the door open as she touched up the style she had chosen. "And does it have anything to do with that silent conversation you were having with Logan this morning."

"Um," Scott's hesitation told her that she was right on the mark. "Do you really want to know?" he asked with a wince. Max chuckled and stuck her head back out of the bathroom.

"It depends," she informed him cheekily. "Are you going to give me advice from the point of view of a friend, or of an older brother type?" Before he could answer, she then chuckled. "Or heaven forbid, the mentor and teacher who thinks he has a pretty good handle on the outcast, young runaway, seeking protection?"

Whatever he'd been about to say was lost as Scott began to laugh. "Is that really how I come off?" he demanded, though he didn't sound too perturbed by the fact. Max nodded.

"It's understandable," she explained immediately. "Given your... line of work, I would imagine you see that often enough. Though I'm not hardly in the same position as the kids you guys take in and foster."

"No, you're not," he agreed, turning quietly pensive for a moment. "But at the same time, you kind of are." He watched her for a moment and then added, "not that there's anything wrong with that."

"I don't know Scott," Max mused as she finished with her hair and set the brush down and turned off the light before returning to the main living area. "Are you seeing it because it's there, or you think it should be there?"

"Good question," he mused, which definitely wasn't an answer.

"Well," Max sighed as she retrieved the shoes that she had set out that she planned to wear, "why don't we move on from the definition of my situation to what you'd like to talk about."

Scott gave her a brief smile, before loosely clasping his hands across his stomach. He watched her strapping her feet into her shoes for a moment before sighing once more. "I don't suppose you'd be very receptive to hearing what I want to say..." he began.

"I'm a big girl Scott," Max scoffed. "I can hear things that I might not want to and pretty much not hold it against you. I can keep in mind that this is coming from a good place, probably for a good reason, right?"

"Yeah, okay," he nodded. "It's just," he began and then straightened up, "to be honest, I know I was thrilled to see Logan show interest in you when you first arrived."

"Because it took his focus away from Jean," Max nodded. "Which is entirely understandable. But you don't think it's so great now?"

"For you? No," he answered her bluntly. He seemed wary, so Max just waited, calmly watching him, seeing the emotions playing over his face, tension stringing through his body. "I hate to say this Max, but I don't think you know Logan as well as you might think, or want to."

"No, I certainly don't," she agreed, shaking her head slightly. "But I don't think you do either. I doubt anyone does. He seems a very private individual. In more than a... a privacy, security freak kind of way. You know what I mean?"

"I think I do," Scott nodded. "But I know more of Logan than you do."

"You know different facets, sure," Max continued with her agreeable streak. She shifted in her seat, once her shoes were properly strapped on and smiled widely. "From what I understand, you guys have been in some pretty stressful situations together, right?" She allowed him a chance to nod, as well as add to that, but Scott refrained. "And how much time do you spend together otherwise?"

"We don't," he told her bluntly.

"And seriously, in that time, how much of your dealing with him was colored by your annoyance over how he acted with Jean? The type of annoyance that, despite how hard people try, they can't seem to let go of completely, even if they say they can?"

"Okay, point taken," Scott tilted his head. He inhaled deeply and moved one arm to the nearest arm rest, leaning his head on his fist as he regarded her. "So far, Jean and I like you. I know Jean would like to be friends with you and I think you have some interesting ideas about things we have in common. I also worry that you might expect more of Logan, that as far as I'm aware, he's not capable of giving. And when he has, it's been more like an obligation for him, rather than out of any true... compassion, I guess."

Max, instead of decrying what he had said, took a moment to digest it. Was he referring to Logan's own admitted tendency to be something of a loner? There were veiled rumblings underneath the surface that Scott was reacting to that Max probably wasn't familiar with or aware of. It was common enough when someone came into a new situation with old players. Both men made it clear that they were not friends and probably never would be. They already had developed an antagonistic relationship for several reasons, Jean just being one among them.

"What exactly is it that you think I want from him that he's not capable of giving?" she wondered quietly and was just a little amused to see Scott squirming in his seat slightly. "And what makes you think that I'm cut from such a different cloth than he is?" she also pressed on him. He opened his mouth once to answer, but then snapped it shut.

"Okay," he sighed. "Point taken. I don't actually know either of you well enough to make judgments like that. All I know is what I've seen so far. But please keep in mind, that to me, it's been a poor showing, aside from what he did to save Rogue." He looked vaguely disturbed that he had said that much. Max nodded absently as she rose from the sofa to retrieve her wrap and purse.

"Yeah, if all he's done is to pursue Jean, save a kid he felt responsible for, pursue Jean some more and then drop her like a hot potato when the next pretty face comes along, I can see your point," she teased, though something in the words rang true in her. Was that all she was to him? A distraction from this unrequited love he had for the redhead? She tried to shake the feeling away. She was determined to enjoy the evening and doubting herself was not the way to go about it.

"If it helps any," Scott offered, standing as well, "I do believe that he isn't just trying to toy around with you. I think that whatever he might feel for you is more real than what he was looking for when he looked at Jean." He chuckled uncomfortably then. "I guess I'm just questioning his staying power. He does have a tendency to... bail, when things settle down."

Max nodded, still unable to speak.

"You look great, by the way," Scott added quickly, seeming to understand her reticence.

"Thank you," she responded automatically. And then, glancing at the uncomfortable male in her suite, chuckled as well. "I was meaning to ask you, if you don't mind, how exactly do you see through those glasses?"

Scott's relief was evident as he exhaled and relaxed. "Well, it took us a while to develop these and we had some help with it from a friend of the professor's," he began to explain. "The lens is a ruby quartz that seems to deflect the power of my eyes..." he went on and Max allowed herself to get lost in the semi-scientific explanation. Exactly as he intended, Scott had definitely given her something to think about.


	26. Chapter 26

Title: The Glory Of Manticore

Author: Restive Nature

Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to Dark Angel or to X-men. They belong respectively to Cameron/ Eglee and to Marvel Comics. No infringement is intended and this fiction is for private enjoyment only.

Rating: up to MA

Chapter Rating: PG-13

Genre: Crossover

Type: action/ Romance

Pairing: Max/ Logan

Summary: Max is once again on the run. But this time a safe haven awaits her in the form of Professor Xavier's School for Gifted Children.

Spoilers/ Time line: Post the first movie, for X-men. First season for DA, starting off from Episode "Blah Blah Woof Woof"

Feedback: Always welcome!

Distribution: Ask first please.

Chapter Twenty-six

Max listened raptly as Scott described the different processes that he, Professor Xavier and another doctor friend of Charles', a Scottish woman named Moira McTaggert had used to come up with the glasses that he wore now. It was an interesting process of hits and misses that they had gone through and Scott seemed truly happy to get into the technical aspect of it that posed no stupid questions from her. Indeed, with her applicable scientific awareness, she was able to ask intelligent questions about different aspects, coming closer now to understanding how they thought his mutation worked.

That didn't mean that she wasn't worrying over things with another part of her mind. Her mutation, man made rather than nature based, allowed her to multi task physically or simply in her mind. She could sort and separate several strands of thought, working them out all at once without anyone being any wiser. So while part of her mind was engaged with Scott, the other was worrying over what he had said about Logan.

It was true that Scott, Jean and the others had known him longer than she had. But as she had pointed out, that time spent together was under intense, stress fraught situations, it sounded like. If anyone was to know Logan best out of this group, aside from himself, it would be the professor. He was the openly acknowledged telepath in the group, though Jean was starting to learn that aspect of her powerful mutation. She could always go to him to find her answers, if she didn't outright ask Logan. In this instance, she wasn't sure that it would be worth it though.

The professor surely had to be canny enough, given his age, his mutation and his control over it, to know when someone was trying to pump him for information. And though he had privately given her his assurances that he for the most part, stayed out of other people's minds, it also occurred to her that he might encounter the same problem that Jean had discovered. How, the harder that someone tried to hide something, to not allow a telepath to know a thought, it was a pretty big knock to the metaphorical head, saying 'read this!'. Or as Jean had described a neon sign being thrown at their senses. She was fairly sure that even with her parallel thought process, she would give away more than she was comfortable with than she would glean from him, if indeed he were inclined to spill Logan's secrets.

She had a feeling he wouldn't.

There was also the fact that these thoughts and impressions that Charles had of Logan would be colored and slanted as Scott's were. Or Jean's. It made her want to laugh that they were all trying so hard to warn her about Logan. All based on perhaps what their fears might be if they were in the relationship, even though things had not progressed that far. Charles for all that he was a philanthropic type, seemed to consider Logan broken in a way that wasn't possible to totally repair. His mind damaged from whatever trauma he had suffered in his past.

It was obvious in the way Charles' dealt with Logan. Like he was a wild animal, not tamed, but broken enough to be on a short leash. But with that wariness in his eyes that told Max, Charles was just waiting for the next event that sent him back to the wilder land. Jean, warning her against Logan's maleness. Too extreme, though exciting, invigorating. Jean couldn't reach that level, in her own opinion, probably. She might be able to keep up for a while, but certain comforts called out to her and it wasn't hearth and home. Max figured that Jean needed something of a neutral basis to keep her from going out of control. Scott seemed to have a much better handle on his emotions. Logan didn't bother to scale it back all the way. She had seen that. When Logan was upset, even if he didn't express it verbally, you could tell. In each and every one of his mannerisms, it was there. Scott was harder to read and it wasn't just the glasses on his face.

She wondered if perhaps he had developed that subconsciously, being in love with Jean, desiring to give her what she needed, to be the caretaker in their relationship. She gave a soft smile as that occurred to her. In a way, that was what she wanted too. For someone to shelter and protect her from the darkness of the night she couldn't sleep through. Had she found it with Logan?

Some part of her said that maybe she might have.

The larger part of her didn't trust that.

And then there was Scott himself, here now, warning her that Logan was going to do what he did, out of some sense of obligation and then abandon her. Intimating that she was just a substitute for Jean, perhaps maybe even another gone but haunting Logan's past and subconsciously, the present. Is that how he had felt when Jean was dealing with her attraction to Logan? No matter how hard Jean might have tried to hide an attraction, it had to have been obvious to Scott, especially the longer they had been together. But Jean was probably through the worst of what she had termed her 'crush'. Did Scott still feel like he was a substitute for the bad boy that females fantasized about? Perhaps if he was the one that always protected her, even though she could take care of herself, Scott needed to see that she would take care of him too. Relationships, Max knew, couldn't survive one sided, nor could they find a comfortable place and stay that way forever. Because things, the world, people, situations were constantly changing. The state of today was never the state of tomorrow.

"And that's how we found the right concentration of quartz," Scott finished. Max nodded and leaned forward a little on the sofa.

"It's amazing to think that just millimeters decide whether or not things get blown up," she chuckled, shaking her head a little. "But then, same could be said for a lot of things. A few milligrams one way or the other is the difference between bomb and no bomb. A few milliliters of gasoline to oxygen gives fire or no fire."

"Yes, but in those instances, there has to be the ignition as well," Scott grinned. He lifted his finger to press against the frame of his glasses. "Don't have an ignition switch here."

"Wouldn't it be cool if you did though?" she giggled. "The students would never step a toe out of line."

The grin on his face was wide as he ducked his head slightly. "Yeah, funny," he agreed with the air of one trying to vastly suppress his emotions. Max repressed a sigh, feeling like she was missing something again. Scott lifted his arm and turned his wrist to check his watch. "Well, we were all supposed to be about ready to go now. Maybe we should head down to the lobby?"

"All right," Max nodded, acting contrite, though mischievous. "I'm ready when you are Mr. Summers."

"Oh don't you start," Scott finally chuckled as he rose from his seat on the sofa. He held out his hand, though Max had the feeling that it was more because manners were ingrained into him, rather like the other Logan she knew. Nevertheless, she took it, since scooting forward in her seat to gain purchase to rise would make her short enough skirt rise up a little too high. She quickly double checked herself to make sure that she had everything and together they left her hotel room.

Scott paused to put an ear to his door, with a soft knock. "Jean?" But there was no reply so he shrugged and looked down to where their Logan's door was located. Max waved her hand vaguely.

"Lobby is good," she declared. There was no reason to stand over the other pair to chivvy them along. It wasn't like they'd be turned away, since the table was being held for Scott and Jean, unlike a usual simple reservation. "So what made you decide to turn to science and mechanics to teach?" she wondered, prompting their conversation along a similar line as to what they'd been discussing earlier.

"You know," Scott mused as they walked along the hallway to the elevator banks. "You're one of the few people that make the correlation behind that."

Max shook her head. "Science is what makes things go boom, it's not the what, it's the why," she explained. "Or in some cases, I guess it can be the what. I don't know. Anyone that's interested in life, is connected to science. I guess, I just understand it well. I can see the process myself, knowing the mechanics behind the science and the science behind the mechanics."

Yeah," Scott nodded as he watched Max press the down button. "Usually it takes an explosion, a fire or a zap from an exposed wire before the kids really think of the science aspect of what we do in the shop."

"Well," Max mused, "I guess it can take a while before kids are ready to expand their knowledge of the world and it's interconnectivity. Isn't it the idea or theory that an infant's world starts off completely self based. What baby wants, what baby needs and to hell with everyone else? And as they grow, in the preferred environment, they start to learn about others emotions and needs and how it relates to them."

"Well, yeah, I've noticed that teens can really be among the most violent and vindictive grouping on the planet," Scott spoke slowly as they stepped into the newly arrived elevator. The doors slid shut behind them and he reached for the Lobby button. "I suppose that really makes sense if you look at it from that point of view."

"That they're still trying to learn their place in the world, and how to balance their needs with others and not always sure how to do it?" Max supplied. Scott nodded.

"And you'd think that someone like the professor with his mind reading, or someone that might say, have empathic tendencies, would have an easier time of it," he sighed, obviously thinking about Jean, still or again, it made little difference.

"Except that they go along with one thing and then suddenly, boom they have this new aspect for them to try an understand, new parameters that they have to find the boundaries of," Max declared quickly. "I would think that it would add more stress to the growing process."

Scott grinned, his lower facial features transforming slightly and while it didn't put Max on edge, it pricked something in her subconscious.

"What?" she demanded.

"I don't know," Scott guffawed. "You tell me." He paused, waiting for a moment and then chortled again. "I don't know, I was just thinking for a moment there that maybe I should talk to the professor about you becoming some sort of counselor or mentor to our students."

Max was taken aback. That was about the last thing she had expected to hear. "Yeah right," she scoffed. "First off, you'd have to talk to me about it. And I'd give you a flat no. In conversation, I get it. But actually put me in front of a kid to talk it all out, I'd incite the kid to anarchy most likely."

"So it seems," Scott nodded. "But what about if you were just thrust into a situation where a kid needed help?"

"Well..." Max began, but then realized that this was the sort of thing that had exactly happened to her. "I hate to say it, but I have enough morals that I help."

"You do, huh?" Scott puffed up slightly as their elevator slowed in it's descent before halting at the ground floor. The doors dinged and opened and they stepped out. Both glanced around the large, open area, but Jean and Logan were nowhere in evidence. Scott lifted an arm, gesturing towards the seats across from the desk and Max gave a small nod. They moved in that direction before she quietly continued.

"For an example, several months ago, I had a run in with the law," she told him, a little nervously, because Scott seemed to be all about the rules and playing it straight. But he made no outcry, simply gave a slight nod. "They were the types that had no problem skipping a few steps of due process. I ended up in an open prison."

"I've heard about those," Scott sighed. "Just about anything happens there, doesn't it?"

Max could tell from the hint of righteousness in his voice that he'd never had personal experience of being held in one, though perhaps he'd seen more than heard. She might ask, depending on how he reacted. "Yeah. I managed to make friends with a six foot six, three hundred pound shop owner who traded with one of the guards for shoes from his vintage shop. Size elevens or twelves, I believe it was," Max grinned. It wasn't such a shock to her. It was a wide varied world after all. Scott smirked as well, but made no outcry. "Anyway, he tried to help me escape, but I was ill at the time. Didn't go over well. I was taken to the warden's compound. And there I discovered that one of the prisoner's had given birth inside the walls. She'd been killed in a riot and the warden and his wife took in her daughter."

"Well, that was very kindhearted of them," Scott commented.

"Until you also learn the fact that he was abusing her sexually," Max pointed out after they had seated themselves and waited until other guests had passed by them. Scott, settling himself in, leaned forward suddenly to grasp at her hands.

"That's horrible," he groaned with much more emotion than he had shown, aside from words about or related to Jean. Max gave him a sad imitation of a smile. "What happened?"

"We got her out, if that's what you're wondering," Max assured him. "A friend of mine found out where I was and that I was ill. My room mate, Cindy got herself picked up for solicitation, found my new prison friend and with his help, got to me. They medicated me and then she held the warden at gun point and forced him to transport us outside the compound, where we got away." That was a heavily edited version of the story and she hoped that Scott would let it lie.

"So this girl?" he asked, his muscles in his cheeks twitching.

"Was formally adopted by a loving couple that owned a dairy farm outside of town, with mom being a school teacher no less," Max chuckled. "And last I'd heard, was doing very well."

"Because you cared," Scott smiled, but it was uneven. "I wish all the cases could end so well."

"Yeah, but that's not the way the world works," she agreed. "You do what you can when you can."

"And try not to beat yourself up when you can't," he sighed heavily.

Max stared at him for a long moment before it dawned on her. She reached for his arm, hesitant to press too hard, but she had suspicions. "You've had someone in your past?" she posed it as a question. "Probably not the exact same situation. But... was there someone you felt like you failed?" She swallowed heavily, recognizing the look, sort of. But only because she had seen the same look in the mirror when she thought of Lucy, the girl she had abandoned to save herself. It was the whole reason she had saved Maria. Because at that time, she could. So she had.

Obviously, there had to have been something like that for Scott, who with head hanging, nodded slightly before lifting his face, a wry self deprecating grin in place. "Yeah. No abuse, that I am or was aware of, but someone... Maybe if you stick around long enough, I'll tell you all about it."

"Okay," Max nodded, a tremulous grin making her lips curve. "Deal. When you're ready."

"Oh please," Scott pursed his lips. "Its not that sordid, but I was young. Everything is so much worse when you're young right?" They both laughed, reminding each other of their earlier conversation. Spokes of the same wheel that went round and round, day after day, the way life was.

And it was like this, seated closely to one another, hands clasped together, heads bent towards one another, that Jean and Logan found them.

Logan stared at the door as he heard Max and Scott moving past it. They'd been chatting for quite a while, Scott droning on and on about his shades and interestingly enough, Max hadn't seemed completely bored. She was intelligent. Logan already knew that. Creative minds didn't sit idle and she definitely had the smarts. But then he'd already known she was fairly street smart for all that she had pulled while there. He hadn't realized that she was learned enough to understand so easily, the science behind why Scott's specially made glasses worked.

He supposed he would have realized himself the work that had gone into them if he had been bothered to think of it. In his opinion, they worked, when Scott wore them. So they wouldn't work if he didn't wear them. Were nothing more than lumps of ground up rocks and frames if left alone. So it was good enough for Logan. He didn't have to know the why. He supposed that was why Max got along with the couple. As a mechanic in Scott's case, or leader of the mutant freak X-men, Scott was always looking into how and why. And Jean, being a doctor, she was always chasing those questions down too.

It was perhaps why, when he heard them leave Max's room, that he didn't move to the door and meet them. Glancing over to the mirror positioned where he could easily see most of himself, he figured that he'd had a moment of self doubt. He had had to get himself under control from earlier, which he had managed by focusing on something other than himself. Of course, focusing on Max in her bath hadn't been the smartest way to do it, but at least then the problem was almost entirely physical and he could combat that.

Unsurity was not something any animal liked. It tended to incite the fight or flight instinct. And Logan was the predator that would always fight for the very little it had. Moments after he had heard them board the elevator and the doors shut, he moved into the hallway. Her scent lingered a little and Logan inhaled deeply. His mind swam slightly as he processed all over again the different layers beneath the scent she had chosen to lightly apply. Other scents were present too, all mingling, but his mind was able to swiftly separate them into recognizable order. But the one that was in the back of his mind since the evening before, still wasn't present. He smiled grimly before stepping back to his room to grab his coat, leaving the door hang open.

He did so simply because Jean was on her way as well. Her steps were light along the carpeted hall and she slowed as she approached his door and then leaned against the door jamb. "Knock, knock," she announced unnecessarily. "Here," she commented, causing him to turn to see that she was peeking in, her arm outstretched. Having everything he needed, Logan moved over to the door, glancing down at her hand before he turned the light off.

"What's this?" he asked holding his hand up. She dropped a quarter in his hand and he frowned at it.

"Penny didn't seem enough," she teased, pulling her hand back to her side. Now that he was at the door, opening it wider, he could see how much trouble she had gone to with her appearance that night.

He weighed the money in his hand before grinning slightly and tucking it into his pocket. "Hope it was worth what you paid," he teased, wondering just how much she had caught and how long she'd been listening in. If she could even... she had said and he'd picked up in other ways, that she'd been having troubles with her powers lately.

"The full version," Jean mused, tilting her head even more as she considered. "I'm not sure I like the price of entry. The preview trailer was enough. Gave me the highlights without weighing me down too much."

"Really?" he grunted. Jean smirked.

"Kinda obvious Logan," she teased. "She's all you've pretty much been thinking about all day, all last night. One way or another. And I didn't really see anything. Just that that's where your thoughts were."

"Uh huh," he frowned and stared at her for a moment before shutting off the light. She recognized his intent and stepped back away from the door.

"Did you want to talk, or just remain in your metaphorical cave for a little longer?" she asked and while he knew that she was still trying to tease, there was also a hint of a warning in her voice.

"Rather get things sorted in my head and risk a few hurt feelings," he told her honestly, "than come out and tear things up beyond repair."

She nodded as they began walking together towards the recently used elevator. "That's fair. I can respect that."

"I do want to talk to you about something, at some point, but not tonight," he warned her. Jean simply nodded as they stepped into the waiting car. Perhaps Scott had managed to send it back up to them before they had gotten off downstairs. Either way, he didn't have to wait, which he did appreciate.

"Just let me know when," Jean acknowledged. "So, are you looking forward to tonight, or are you just humoring us?"

"A little of both," he chuckled, nonplussed at the subject change. "Things were just getting a little too much. And not just me, either, huh?"

"You got me there," Jean shrugged. "It's like having to relearn the basics, but now that I recognize that, it's a little easier." He smiled to think that she knew exactly what he was referring to. But that could have been because of her burgeoning powers, like he could almost smell them growing in her, or because it had been weighing heavily on her own mind. Again, probably a little of both.

"Actually, I'm interested to see if this is something I like," he admitted, casting a sidelong glance at her. "Pretty much find something I like and stick to it," he explained further. "Don't recall that I've ever gone to a jazz club. Though I don't mind the music."

"Probably because you were around for all the late greats, huh?" Jean laughed, once again referencing the fact that she couldn't pinpoint his biological age. She suspected, as did Logan and the professor that he was older than the professor even. Some of his base behaviors seemed rooted in past learnings and modes. It was really not much of a hint there to go on because he had often found himself immersed in cultural arenas unlike American ones and feeling perfectly at ease with them. So whether it was learned through culture or just the way he was, one couldn't say.

"Might'a been," he agreed easily. They were quiet as the elevator slowed to a halt and the doors disengaged with a soft hiss. The scent hit him before he'd even stepped through the doors and had his eyes widening, his nose flaring and his throat repressing only slightly the low growl. "The fuck?" he demanded of no one.

"What is it?" Jean demanded quietly from behind him.

"They're sad, upset," he explained quickly, his eyes honing in on Max and Scott seated together, holding one another's hands, staring at nothing in particular it seemed, their heads bowed as they were. He was striding forward, fists clenched as he tried to calm himself, which he knew wouldn't work very well. Unfortunately, or maybe not for Scott's sake, the sorrow was emanating from both of them, giving Logan an unclear view of what could have caused it.

"Oh," Jean murmured very softly, but the very moment she stepped towards them, Scott's head shot up, followed just a millisecond later by Max. Logan barely took note of the other man letting loose of Max as they both stood. He was transfixed by what he had been searching for, without realizing. That scent that he had so feared from her, the one that so far hadn't been present, hit him as he strode towards her, intent on finding what was going on.

The scent that told his body and brain myriad things, that only happened when she had looked and recognized him. Logan's grin was wolfish without his intending it to be. He reached the pair of them steps before Jean, though she had quite the long legged ground eater when she was determined. He reached for Max's hands still aloft in the air and noted the trace of tears in the corners of her eyes. They hadn't been shed. If they had, no matter the cause, he'd have torn Scott's head off.

"You look amazin' darlin'," he spoke huskily, wanting to wipe the last trace of unhappiness away. Her smile was wide and she shook her head.

"You don't look so bad yourself," she returned. Logan turned his head slightly as he heard Jean murmuring to Scott as they hugged.

"Alex?" she murmured, which wasn't a name that Logan was familiar with in connotation to the other man. Scott's nod was enough for her and Logan figured that it wasn't his business, unless of it was someone Max knew too. And if it was enough to make her want to cry... Logan fought to put the brakes on that line of thought.

"Well I don't know about you two," Max sighed, reaching out to nudge Scott's arm, "but we got ourselves down, talking about things we can't change at the moment. So some good food and music is definitely in order."

Logan was glad that she was making an attempt at lightheartedness. Her words also provided some needed clues, that it wasn't Scott's fault alone. They'd both been participating in the conversation and that was just something that happened. "We can definitely do that," he agreed. He glanced at Jean who had cleared her throat.

"The cab is waiting," she told them, her hand sliding down Scott's arm to take his hand. The male smiled reassuringly, not ignoring Max, but at least not making more of what had happened than she did. Logan moved his hand to the small of Max's back as she turned. She already had her purse and as she moved under his nose, the delectable scents that put her together and made her who and what she was these days, tickled at his senses in more than one way. He could have and probably would to his dying day if he couldn't prove one way or the other, sworn that he knew her.

Just a touch upon her skin and he knew that he pretty much had no choice but to stay with this. He was committed in a way that he had not understood before. Wherever the chips may lay when they landed, he was sticking with her. But for this night, he would put the things aside that were screaming at him. No way would he ignore his instincts, as that had burned him too many times in the past. But neither was he going to blow it all because he listened without thinking a little. Stepping out into the crisper air of New York's night, Logan allowed himself a grin.

It was going to be a hell of a ride before it was all over.

The club that the cab dropped them at was a hoppin' little joint. There was a line, but Scott, leading them forward to talk to the door man, gained them entrance immediately. Once inside, the hostess checked her list as well and happily led them to an intimate table for four in the center of the club where they had a good view of the stage and easy access to the dance floor. Scott asked for the appetizer menu and they all quickly ordered drinks. Jean, to no one's surprise, abstained.

The club was crowded enough that it took a few minutes to get their drinks back to them and while Logan and Max gathered impressions of the club, Scott ordered a whole gamut of food. Jean laughingly protested that they wouldn't be able to eat everything he ordered until Scott pointed out that they had Max and Logan with them and they were all sure to work up an appetite on the dance floor. Jean smirked and then nodded. Turning to Max, she asked what she thought of the place.

"A little more highbrow than the place I would usually go," she chuckled, arching a brow in Logan's direction. "But so far I like it. At least you don't have to yell to be heard."

"True," Jean nodded her agreement. She would have said more but was interrupted by a hand on her shoulder and as she turned to see who it was, gave a delighted noise, obviously recognizing the man, as did Scott.

Turning away from the trio's conversation, Max relaxed in her chair and regarded Logan, who was idly toying with the base of his glass of beer. "So what do you think?" she asked. He glanced up at her only once, and she couldn't tell if the smirk on his face was derogatory or not. At least until he spoke.

"I think it's about the same as any other jazz joint," he shrugged. "Not that I hang out at them a lot. Or ever. I think it's just the company that's making my night enjoyable." He peeked at her as soon as she said that, obviously appreciating the soft glow of a hint of a blush that stained her cheeks.

"I know you've said that you think you're Canadian," she murmured, leaning forward slightly. "And that country is a big enough melting pot that you must have a little Irish in you."

Logan burst out laughing and then tilted his head her way. "Who knows darlin'. Definitely a possibility. Though," now that he was thinking on it, he was kind of interested in figuring those things out. There were people that could figure out people's heritage just by sight. Some it was obvious in. But for those European communities, it wasn't always so clear when there wasn't an identifying feature that was associated with the heritage. "It seems interesting that despite not knowing my cultural background, I still get painted with certain brushes," he noted. Max was nodding.

"Yeah, people think I'm Mexican," she supplied, "so I must either be a thief, or lazy."

"Well darlin'," Logan chuckled, blinking rapidly as he thought back to when she had first arrived. "Sometimes blood will tell."

"Or necessity forces the issue," she countered. "But if I was one or the other, it wouldn't be because of where my antecedents were born. And you're so growly, I'd think you were descended from a grizzly bear more than anything else."

"Maybe," Logan nodded. "But you're so sly, I'd think you were a fox." As soon as he realized what he had said, he dropped his head and groaned as Max burst out laughing. Jean and Scott, just having finished visiting with their friend, who was stepping away now, turned to see what was so funny.

"What?" Scott asked, his lips twitching.

"I think Logan just called me a vixen," Max chuckled.

"Bad line, very bad line," Logan muttered with a grunt, acknowledging the absurdity of it. He couldn't regret it though, when Max leaned over to rub the back of his knuckles.

"I'll try to take it as a compliment," she tittered. "Just like when you called me a shark the other night."

"I meant that in a good way, you know," he countered automatically and to his relief and delight, she just nodded as she laughed before turning to Jean.

"And what do you think?" she wondered of the redhead. Jean just leaned back in her chair and reached for her virgin daiquiri.

"I think I've always thought of Logan as the renegade wolf," she mused.

"Don't you mean lone wolf?" Scott sort of corrected, but after she took a sip of her drink, she shook her head in the negative. She glanced at Max again before speaking.

"Did you ever read anything of Jean M. Auel's?" she asked and Max, not familiar with the author, shook her head. "She wrote about prehistoric or Neanderthal races fighting for existence along with the newer homo sapien race. She also delved into animal hierarchies," the doctor explained. "One of which was wolf packs. I think it quite interesting that she noted that lone wolves and a renegade wolf probably wouldn't be the same."

"How do they differ?" was asked by Scott, while Logan just waited. This would be interesting to hear.

"Well," Jean sighed thoughtfully, "a lone wolf might be one that fought with the alpha male for dominancy and lost. It would leave to establish it's own pack and territory. A renegade wolf on the other hand, is one that didn't conform to the pack expectations, either in coloration or behavior. It would have been different from the rest and would probably seek out others like it if the pack tendency was strong. Otherwise it would live in the spaces between territories, surviving as best it could. The author also explained how closely paralleling one another, wolf packs and human packs were"

"That's interesting," Max's eyebrows went up. She had never really given much thought to animals that she either wasn't made up of, or had to deal with more than once or twice. Dogs, cats, large cats and sharks pretty much were on the short list.

"It is," Jean nodded with a grin as she glanced at her boyfriend, who was also grinning. "In fact, Scott and I were just discussing something like this on the way up here."

"And you still haven't told me what you think or answered my question," Scott reminded her with a laugh. Jean quickly shook her head.

"I'm still in the data gathering stage," she reminded him and Scott scoffed as he glanced at the others.

"I think the data gathering stage will probably go on until I forgot I even asked, just so she doesn't have to answer," he teasingly offered. Jean simply sniffed and averted her head.

"It wouldn't be my problem if you can't accept the empirical evidence," she countered, teasing just as much as he.

"But you haven't presented any, so how can I know if I'd accept it or not?" he taunted. "And speaking of evidence, isn't that Barry Lowing over there?" It worked however he had intended it and Jean turned in her seat to look across the seating area.

"Oh, I should go say hello," she announced, scooting her chair back slightly. "Barry was my parent's estate lawyer. Excuse me."

Max and Logan nodded as Scott rose to follow her. They were kept a moment from their own conversation as the waitress came by with fresh drinks for them and a promise that some appetizers would be up soon. Max toyed with her drink a moment, regarding Logan from under her lashes.

"So what do you think about that?" she finally asked. "What Jean said about the closeness of wolf and human?"

"Isn't it usually monkey and human that are considered cousin?" Logan countered and Max gave him a tight smile. He sighed and leaned back in his chair. "We're all animals," he decided. "We were just given different tools than other animals and it's up to us to make what we can. I do listen to my instincts more than other people I've run into. But I've seen plenty that makes me think it's not a lost art, just one that isn't honed to the extent it could be."

Max nodded thoughtfully and chewed at her lower lip for just a moment before remembering that she was wearing make up and didn't want to wreck it. "So, can I ask, this might seem crass, but I wonder, have you ever run into a mutant that was like... an animal hybrid?"

The question surprised Logan for only a moment. But considering what they were discussing, it was probably a normal thing to wonder about. "Oh yeah," he nodded causally, as if they were discussing the band or something equally as mundane. He leaned in a little closer though. Any excuse, perhaps. "There was this one mutant, went by the name Toad and that's what he was."

"A toad?" Max seemed startled at the idea.

"Yeah," Logan nodded, gaging her reaction. She hadn't been fraternizing with the kids all that much at the school in the short time she had been there. Perhaps this sort of thing was good, to feel her out on the subject. "He was green, had the whole tongue thing I guess and all his strength was in his legs."

"How extraordinary," Max's eyes widened with what looked like surprise and delight and Logan had the momentary idea that perhaps the girl was some sort of mutant groupie. But she hadn't attacked him that way, or any of the other males just upon finding out that they were mutants. "Is that more common than the development of sensory or paranormal genetic strands?"

He blinked slowly. He understood the words, but the abrupt shift to science threw him just a moment. He shook his head a little, recalling how technical she and Scott had been getting earlier in the evening. "That darlin', I have no clue about," he told her. "You'd be better off askin' the professor. That's his cake."

The wide smile returned to her face and she leaned forward slightly to rest her cheek on her fist. But again, it was the unexpected that came out of her mouth. "I really like this song."

He recognized the desire before the words had even left her lips and felt his own body tightening in response. He knew how to play these instincts very well. "Then if I ever had a momma that tried to raise me right, the courteous thing to do would be to ask you to dance."

"It would be," Max agreed and turned to glance at the dance floor. "If you don't mind the lethargic sway. Or we could wait for something with a little energy..."

"I've never been much of a dancer, but I think that the lady's choice is about perfect," Logan decided and pushed his chair back. He'd take whatever excuse she gave him or he could come up with to be with her. And if it was on terms they were both comfortable with, all the better. He rose and held out his hand to her which she took with alacrity.

Feeling warm and not just from the amount of bodies squeezing into and around the club, Logan threaded their way to the dance floor, Max's hand clasped gently in his. When they reached the edge, he turned, waiting for a pause in the music and couples already there. And then they were stepping into each other turning instantly with barely any hesitation, his hand taking hers up while the other moved around her waist. It was tiny enough that one hand alone could almost cover it and Logan spread his fingers wide, pressing her closely to him as her free hand reached up to curl around the juncture of his neck and shoulder before sliding comfortably to rest on his chest, pressed between them.

They swayed companionably around the dance floor for several minutes, the songs from the band flowing easily from one to the next before Max sighed and pulled her head back to look up at him.

"What is it, darlin'?" Logan wondered aloud, softly.

"I..." she began, seeming unsure of herself and Logan was amazed that he had found something that might throw her off balance. But then she chuckled to herself, ducking her head a little before she lifted her face, her eyes meeting his gaze. "This might sound odd," she began, a little breathless, "but lately, I've been thinking that... I know you. Or knew you," she admitted with a small embarrassed laugh, completely missing how Logan's lungs reacted with his own bout of breathless anticipation. "Which I can't imagine, as I can recall my life quite well and I think your larger than life presence would not have been undetected," she rambled on, a little nervous as he didn't respond. "Maybe we knew each other in another lifetime?"

"Count on it sweetheart," he assured her quietly as his mind spun. With a happy little sigh that she hadn't been thought crazy, Max moved in closer once more, welcomed automatically as Logan's eyes drifted shut momentarily and he had to suppress the urge to shout victoriously.

He wasn't crazy, he wasn't wrong and now more than ever, he had something worthwhile to fight for in his life.

"Oh, look," Jean murmured as she and Scott made their way back to their table. She was gesturing to the dance floor and Scott peered over her shoulder. He could feel the pleasure rolling off of Jean as she regarded their friends.

"Wow," Scott snickered. "I don't think I've ever seen him so... so..."

"Blissfully happy?" Jean supplied for him. "At peace?"

"In love," Scott countered and Jean turned her head to smile slowly at him before she nodded.

"This is good," she declared, reaching once more for his hand.

"Well, the food hasn't arrived yet," Scott decided. "Shall we join them?"

"Let's," Jean nodded. They altered their path just slightly and moved towards the dance floor.

Normally Scott had people moving out of his way, assuming that he was blind because of the sunglasses indoors issue. But he could see perfectly well and it was noted that there was definitely agression on the face of the young man that bypassed Jean but clipped his own shoulder as he stormed away from the dance floor. Scott paused and Jean came to a halt, turning to see what the problem was, as Scott waited for an apology that never came. He wasn't going to press it, as the younger man stamped his way to the bar.

It was precisely that kind of belligerent attitude, Scott decided, watching the male ordering something and slamming it back, that could ruin any mutant's night out.


	27. Chapter 27

Title: The Glory Of Manticore

Author: Restive Nature

Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to Dark Angel or to X-men. They belong respectively to Cameron/ Eglee and to Marvel Comics. No infringement is intended and this fiction is for private enjoyment only.

Rating: up to M

Chapter Rating: PG-15 (for language)

Genre: Crossover

Type: action/ Romance

Pairing: Max/ Logan

Summary: Max is once again on the run. But this time a safe haven awaits her in the form of Professor Xavier's School for Gifted Children.

Spoilers/ Time line: Post the first movie, for X-men. First season for DA, starting off from Episode "Blah Blah Woof Woof"

Feedback: Always welcome!

Distribution: Ask first please.

The Glory Of Manticore

Chapter Twenty-seven

"You were right," Max groaned in pleasure. "That was amazing."

"Have to agree with you there," Logan grinned as he stretched his arms above his head, his feet correspondingly curling under a little as he stretched out his upper body as much as possible in the cramped space they were in. Instead of complaining or worrying about it, he let his hands down to rub across his stomach and momentarily wished he had a cigar to enjoy.

Max's eyes twinkled in the low light as she watched him for another moment before she turned to Jean. "It almost makes me wish I knew how to cook, just to try and recreate those crab thingies."

"I told you," Jean smirked as she reached for Scott's hand that was resting closest to her. He held her fingers loosely. "It's the kind of food that's so indulgent that you feel guilty for feeling so good for eating it."

"I'll have to agree with that," Max nodded. And then shook her head, "except I don't feel guilty. It's okay to indulge once in a while. I'll just have to find something to do that'll work off all these extra calories."

"I can help with that, darlin'," Logan immediately jumped back in as he leaned forward, his elbows on the table to brace himself. He ignored Scott's mild look of alarm and the frown that followed, compared to Jean's amusement. "I was thinkin' maybe tomorrow mornin', we could get up early for another small road trip before we head home."

"A small road trip to where?" Max mused, tilting her head enticingly to regard him.

"Half an hour south, give or take," he teased, "depending on traffic. Plenty of chances for walking, sand, surf, maybe a few games..."

Max's eyebrows were furrowing as she tried to realize or figure out what he was talking about until finally the possibilities set in and narrowed until she thought she knew what he was referring to. "Coney Island!" she burst out and knew she was right when Logan chuckled. "Are they still operating?" She glanced at Scott and Jean, both of whom were nodding.

"There aren't as many rides and a lot more transient stores," Jean supplied, "but they've still got lots up there. And the boardwalk is always fun."

"It sure is," Scott agreed and then glanced at his girlfriend, squeezing her hand again. "Remember when we went up there that one summer?" he prompted. "The class trip, right after high school, before you went off to university."

"I do," Jean nodded. "You refused to leave until you had won me at least something and we ended up missing the last bus."

"And we didn't have enough money left for a cab," Scott laughed. "So we decided we would just walk back to the hotel we were all staying at."

"And we made it exactly twenty-three blocks before Charles was there with the town car and Storm, who did not look at all pleased at having been woken up so she could come find us," Jean was giggling. Max glanced at Logan, who seemed to be enjoying this recounting as much as she. But not so much as the lovebirds. "I still have that teddy bear."

"My glasses were still a work in progress," Scott explained across the table to Max, his lips curved softly. "It was difficult to see properly with depth perception as evening came on, but I didn't want to admit that to Jean."

"Oh," Max sighed softly. "So it was a matter of pride, huh?"

"And it was towards the end of the season," Jean added. "College was just a few weeks away. I think we were feeling that weighing down on us more heavily every minute, as our parting got closer."

"See, I like that," Max pursed her lips for a moment and saw they were waiting for her explanation, rather than assuming they knew what she was talking about. "Not to put too fine a point, but with the statistics of marriage and divorce, it's actually nice to see an exception to what you could assume is almost a rule. It's good for people to have something to aspire to, and you guys being together and working through obstacles, it's sets a good example for all those kids you work with." She paused for a moment and then laughed. "That wasn't too condescending, was it?"

"Not at all," Jean assured her. "I guess it seems that way, but Scott and I learned long ago to commit to each other regardless of how the world saw things. It's worked better than trying to conform to society's standards." No one missed the way her eyes lingered on Logan for a moment, but it was understood that perhaps he represented one of those larger issues that all couples had to work through.

"Although some of those standards can be a real comfort," Scott threw in. The other three noticed too, but did not point out, that his thumb was rubbing over the bare ring finger of Jean's hand that he held.

"There's too much in society that I just don't care for," Logan sighed, which was another obvious fact that sort of went without saying.

"High society or as a general whole?" Max wondered, leaning her head to the side, catching herself on her curled palm, to watch him.

"I think it's pretty obvious that I live my life by my own code of honor and screw the rest," Logan grunted, not worried at all, because as he had suspected, it amused her. His words didn't make her laugh, she just gave him a smile of approval. Before she could say more though, the singer, the friend of Jean's that they had all come out to see, had made her way over to the table.

"Jeannie!" she greeted with a small trill as Jean spun around in her chair. "I'm so glad you made it!"

"Laura," Jean sighed as she stood, letting go of Scott's hand, to hug the woman closely. When she pulled back though, her head tilted questioningly. "Okay, we really have to talk."

"Of course," Laura laughed. Still with one arm around Jean's waist, she reached with her other hand to greet Scott. "Hello Scott. You're looking well."

"As are you," he returned politely as he stood. "We brought some friends with us tonight. Logan, Max, this is Laura Alcott, Laura, Logan and Max," he indicated both parties as he mentioned their names.

"It's a pleasure to meet you," Laura nodded to each. "Any friend of Jean's is welcome."

"And you greeted us so wonderfully," Max smiled. "You're voice... I still have shivers up and down my spine."

"Oh thank you," she crooned. "Aren't you so sweet. Oh, I hate to cut this short, I was just on my way to freshen up. But I didn't want Jean to think I hadn't noticed you were here."

"Well, we'll go with," Jean decided. "I'd like a moment too." She turned to the last woman of the party, who was already retrieving her bag and standing from her chair. Logan, even as he had just protested societies rules, but reminded them that he had his own, stood as Max did and even reached to help her with her chair so that she didn't bump into the person seated behind her.

"Won't be long," she assured him.

"I'll be waiting," he returned. "Maybe we can take another spin on the floor and discuss Coney Island some more."

"Sounds good," she nodded and then moved after Jean and her friend Laura. Scott and Logan resumed their seats, both watching their respective girls as they made their way through the crowded club, with little problem.

"Max might have miscalculated that," Scott smirked at Logan, who simply grunted, wondering if he had time for a cigar out back. Or at least part of one. This was still a strict non smoking area. It wasn't worth possible problems to buck the rules.

"What d'ya mean by that?" he grunted. Scott simply jerked his chin up towards the back, where the women had disappeared behind a beaded curtain that marked off the hallway.

"There's always a longer line for the women's than the men's,' Scott pointed out reasonably.

"Oh, yeah yeah," Logan nodded. That was just a fact of life. "One of the great mysteries of life, huh?"

"It actually isn't," Scott chuckled. Logan raised an eyebrow at him and Scott leaned in. "When you grow up in a house that's full of women, you start to figure it out. Women travel in packs, not for just their own safety, but a couple other reasons too."

"You don't say," Logan grunted. He hadn't really given this too much thought, considering it just another feminine mystery that he wasn't really fussed over.

"Yeah, you see it especially in group or double dates," Scott nodded, seemingly mellowed out by the evening. "They get to a natural lull in conversation and they decide it's a good time to retreat and discuss the evening thus far, fix their make up, assure each other that things are going well or not and decide to continue with the evening or not."

"You sound like they're planning a battle," Logan barked out a laugh and Scott joined him.

"Aren't they?" he prompted easily. "And all the while, the men sit out in public, mostly completely oblivious, wondering for the most part, what we already know. Or at least what you know now."

"And what if they just have to pee?" Logan wondered, smirking. Scott shrugged one shoulder.

"They'll still wait until a lull in the conversation," he decided. "They're just more polite like that."

"Yeah," Logan agreed. He toyed with his bottle of beer for a moment, noting it was almost empty. He glanced at Scott. "You about ready for another?" he grunted. Scott looked down at his own beer, nearly emptied, as he'd imbibed through dinner

"Yeah, another sounds good," he agreed. "Since we're taking a cab. Let me go, I need to stretch my legs."

"Sure," Logan decided. He glanced over to see Max's drink was low as well. "Maybe grab another for Max. That way it'll be here if she wants it."

"Can do," Scott assured him as he moved off to the bar. Logan didn't mind being left alone, though his eyes strayed continuously to the area of the lounge where it branched off to the bathrooms and back rooms. He finished his beer and set it on the table to play with the label absently. He heard Scott's laughter ring out and when he glanced over his shoulder, saw the skinny male leaning on the bar, chatting with the male bartender. The man was working, but obviously entertaining Scott like he was an old regular.

Satisfied, he turned his attention back to where his thoughts always seemed to be these days. But she still hadn't emerged. He noted that some of the band members were returning to the stage, so it was likely that the singer friend of Jean's would be returning as well. Logan watched with apathetic interest as they quietly retuned their instruments for their next set. He watched as Scott returned to the table with a beer for each of them, followed by a waitress bringing the drinks for their dates. She had to step around a young blond guy that was moving away from the bar as well. His profile looked slightly familiar, but then the woman stepped into his eye line.

"Thanks," he muttered as the waitress deftly settled the glasses onto the table from her tray. She gave a hearty smile before she disappeared to take care of the rest of her tables. The blond guy had disappeared, before Logan had realized, but maybe jazz wasn't his thing.

"Okay," Scott chuckled and Logan glanced sharply at him, wondering what the slim mutant found funny now. "I guess I should have expected that."

"Expected what?" Logan demanded. Scott shrugged one shoulder before lifting his beer bottle to take a pull off it.

"In the two minutes you were left alone, you reverted right back to your broody self," Scott pointed out, with just an underlining hint of amusement, and a tiny spot of accusation.

"Which is a cumulative word for quiet, introspective and thoughtful," Logan grunted. "None of which, on their own, are all that objectionable."

"Wow," Scott drawled, clearly in a baiting mood, "so many big words. Why aren't you teaching again?"

"Because I've got much better uses of my time than trying not to rip those hormonal time bombs apart because my span of patience in shorter than a gnat's dick," Logan retorted and instead of the shock, dismay or disapproval he was expecting, Scott simply laughed. True, it did sound a little shocked, but that could have just been the imagery. Maybe partly drunk, mellowed out Scott wasn't such a bad guy.

"What's the joke?" Jean wondered as she made it to Scott's side.

"Just guy talk," Scott smiled up at her before pushing his chair back so that he could politely rise. Logan didn't bother with that crap at the moment because he was too busy looking behind Jean for his date. His suddenly elevated mood dropped instantly when he didn't spot her. Jean, who was seating herself, with Scott's polite help, leaned forward naturally.

"She'll be just a few more minutes," she assured him. It wasn't clear and Logan didn't particularly care if she was using her powers or her feminine intuition to read the situation. He jerked his chin once in acknowledgment. Jean, not feeling slighted, turned to her boyfriend.

"Remind me to send a card to Laura when we get home, thanking her for tonight," Jean asked of him, her eyes twinkling.

"Of course," he nodded, "although you usually remember those sorts of things without any prompting."

"True," Jean nodded. "But it has to be just the right card."

"All right," Scott agreed without any further argument. "I had the waitress bring you another," he stated, gesturing to her glass. "But if you'd prefer something else...?"

"This is fine," she shook her head before reaching for the libation. "Thank you. Logan, seriously, she's a big girl!"

"Whose got who knows what trouble on her ass," he growled out softly, his worry. Jean's eyes went wide.

"Is this what had you so upset the other...?" she started to ask and knew she had hit the nail on the head by the look he gave her.

"What's going on?" Scott demanded suddenly, but quietly.

"There was someone in her hotel room," he supplied. "Before we got back, maybe when she got there. He was gone when I went back."

"You're sure it was a he?" Scott asked sharply as he caught up on what they were discussing and Logan simply tapped at his nose. He glanced at Jean and saw that her eyes were slightly unfocused.

"She's not there anymore," she hissed and started to turn in her seat.

"Stay here," Logan warned even as he came to his feet, his chair tumbling back slightly. He didn't offer any apologies to the person behind him.

"Logan!" Scott whisper shouted. Logan's hand was stretched out to stop him.

"I'll 'scream' for Jean if I need help," he told the other man authoritatively.

"He's right Scott," Jean warned, her hand on her boyfriend's forearm, even as he was in the act of rising from his seat. "We don't need the attention."

Logan tuned their conversation out as he stepped lithely over to the bar, where that punk kid had been sitting. It hadn't been that long since he'd been there and Logan inhaled deeply. The same scent that he had sniffed out before, in the hotel room, at the museum. It was right there and he wanted to punish himself that he hadn't seen it. That was the kid that had been at the bar when he and Max were playing pool. The one that had taken her receipt that she had lost.

Shit! How could he have not seen it. Jean's sharp hiss in his mind reminded him that they were in a crowded lounge and he had to pull the tips of his claws that had started to emerge on instinct, back in. Without wasting any further time, he headed to the back, where the bathrooms were located. Her scent was strong in the hallway, but past the women's restroom, it was also heading in the wrong direction.

He continued on in that direction, heading away from the main lounge and Logan saw an Exit sign hanging at the end of the hallway. The stranger's scent wasn't in the hall and Logan wondered what the hell she had walked out into. Before he had even reached the door, he heard her voice, and something akin to relief washed over him that she didn't sound panicked.

"... where we stand," she was saying.

"Well I for one am relieved you're finally doing the right thing," the male chuckled. "Seriously Maxie, Seattle wasn't good for you."

"Says you," she laughed and the knot of tension in Logan's chest eased just a little. It didn't disappear completely though. "I've got some good friends there."

"Sketch and Herbal?" the guy scoffed and Logan's face tightened. This guy certainly sounded like he knew her pretty well, but why would she... Or wouldn't. He wanted to storm out there and find out who the hell this kid was. One of her friends that just happened to be in New York? There was still something fishy as all hell about this.

"And Cindy," she reminded him. "That girl had my back more than you know. I'm not having this argument with you again," her voice was cooler now and Logan smirked.

"Fine," the male sighed. "Give me a little time to take care of a few things and then we can get the hell out of here."

And right there was the last straw. This punk ass kid was taking her nowhere! Logan shoved the door open and stepped out into the night. But rather than startling either of them, they simply glanced over towards him calmly. Logan was interested to see that the male's eyes narrowed even further as he crossed his arms over his chest. Max however... Satisfaction blazed through his chest as her eyes lit up upon seeing him move towards them.

.

"Hey Logan," she smiled her greeting. "Is Laura back on yet?"

"Not yet," he answered carefully. "The band is warming up again, so we might want to take our seats right away," he offered as a suggestion, but there was enough steel in his voice that it also wasn't.

"Okay, just a second," she nodded and turned back to the other male. "What things?"

"Huh?" the kid asked, thought he didn't turn back to Max as she had to him. He was still eying Logan... like a rival would. Logan didn't need to do the posturing that other males did because anyone with an ounce of instinct still left in them, seemed to know that he was no one to be messed with. In fact, just to piss the kid off, he relaxed against the back wall of the bar, hooking his thumbs into the pockets of his slacks and pasted a slight smirk on his face.

"Zack!" Max snapped, drawing his attention finally. He turned to her, though his eyes darted to Logan. "What other things?"

"It's nothing important Maxie," the young man waved away her concern. Logan wasn't sure if it was information gathering, jealousy or an attempt at distracting her when he waved one hand his way. "So do I get to meet your new friend?"

"Of course," Max nodded, but her lips were pursed and Logan could see that she wasn't going to let go of her inquiry. She gestured to Logan and said, "Zack, Logan." She turned to grin at him. "Logan, my big brother Zack."

Logan was definitely startled at that information and as subtly as he could, took another whiff of the air around them. They didn't exactly smell... but having them here together, he could smell undertones that were amazingly similar. Maybe they weren't full blood siblings, or a cousin that she called brother. The relief he felt, to know that this kid was someone that was partially acceptable to be in Max's life, was enormous. It was only partial though, because there was something about Zack that sort of set Logan's teeth on edge.

"Jeez Max," Zack was chortling, though Logan could see that he wasn't actually pleased. "Another one?"

"What the hell's that supposed to mean?" he growled. He had been about to step forward and politely greet the kid, after all, he was Max's family in some way or another. Someone she loved. But now he was advancing on the kid for the slur he had put in his tone.

"He's just referring to Logan Cale," Max sighed holding her hand up and catching Logan at the chest. He glanced down at her and calmed once more with just that simple, warm touch. He gave her a half smile and forced himself to relax. "He didn't mean anything bad."

"Given what the guy had you doing barely seconds after you hit town here," Logan grunted, "I'm not sure he doesn't. Guy sounds a little obsessive to me, you know?" He had directed the words to Max, but it was Zack that chuckled.

"Yeah, definitely," he agreed. "Logan needs a reality check about Maxie here." He glanced at his sister. "She doesn't exactly run with his crowd, nor should she." Logan smirked, feeling and knowing somehow that it wasn't just Cale that Zack was referring to. He opened his mouth to speak further, but Max stepped between them, her back to Logan. He wanted to move her out of the way, just in case they got into it. The way the kid was deliberately acting, pushing, it could still go either way.

He didn't want to, but he was more than ready to take a strip out of Zack's hide if he upset Max. But a quiet voice in his mind was telling him to let her handle it. This was her brother. It might have been the way that Max settled comfortably with him at her back, like she knew he'd back her if she needed it and that said so much to his senses, his instincts. She trusted him and his, he'd trust her.

"Zack, just stop," she said tiredly, her tone telling Logan that they must have hashed this out several times, probably to neither's satisfaction. "Look, you go take care of whatever it is you need to. You have my digits, you know where I'm staying. Call me when you're ready and we'll go from there."

"At that school?" her brother asked suspiciously. His eyes darted over her shoulder to Logan's pleased countenance and the kid groaned. "Seriously Maxie?"

"Don't Zack!" she commanded, her voice frosty. She was tensing up, causing Logan to tense up. Her brother reached for her, but before Logan could respond, she had spun her wrist out from under his and threw his hand back towards him. Logan's smirk turned into a full blown wolfish grin. "I'm not being sentimental. I'm not being foolish. This is me being careful, smart, all the things you wanted me to be. But your concept of the ideal life is not mine and I would appreciate it if you would stop pushing it on me. I've accepted that you can't or won't change your mind. You need to do the same for me!"

Logan was satisfied with those words and even more so with Zack's response.

"Can't do that Maxie," the kid sadly shook his head. "It's always been my job to watch out for you. That's never gonna change."

"That's obvious," she sighed and then chuckled. "Just as long as we're clear."

"Crystal," Zack assured her and then stepped a small bit forward. This time Max went to him and gave him a hug. Logan couldn't argue with that. The kid glanced at him over Max's shoulder and spoke directly to Logan again. "Watch out for her, huh? If she'll let you."

That got him a light slap on the back from his sister and a nod from Logan.

"Already done," he assured the kid.

"Somehow I believe that," Zack grunted as he released his sister. His tone was assured but wary. "Catch ya later," he finally sighed.

"Bye," she murmured quietly in return and then watched as Zack departed. The kid didn't look back as he moved out of the alley and around the corner. Max sighed again, staring after his form until he disappeared and then slowly turned to look up at Logan. "You came after me?"

"Yeah," he grimaced and wanted to rub at the back of his neck, a little nervous now that the confrontation was done. "About that..."

"I'm not mad," she assured him quickly. "I thought you might come out here, when I didn't go back with Jean. But Zack said he might check in with me tonight. He was here, he just doesn't like crowds."

"I noticed that," Logan nodded, in the same boat as the kid, though probably for different reasons. "So when did you arrange this? At the hotel, or the museum?" he asked as gently as possible, not wanting to piss her off. She did look amused still, at least.

"You caught that, huh?" she muttered before sighing. "Yeah, Zack doesn't have the best interpersonal skills. Although I'm not sure yet which one of you is worse." Logan didn't let the criticism bother him. He was what he was. "Yes, he came to see me in my room at the hotel. And yes, we arranged this meeting when he caught up with me at the museum."

"And you thought you couldn't tell me. Why?" he wanted to know. She shrugged one shoulder.

"Because like I said," she pointed out. "I respect Zack's right to do things for himself, his way. He didn't want anyone to know that he was there. So I didn't tell. I don't think either of us counted on your amazing sense of smell," she grinned, though her eyebrows had pulled together with slight irritation that quickly smoothed out as she added, "but if you'll recall, I didn't lie to you."

"No," he agreed slowly as he recalled their conversation about things. "You just carefully manipulated your words to make me think I was insanely imagining things."

"Well then it's good to know you were spot on," she teased. He shook his head a little.

"I guess how I feel about this depends on why he was here," he admitted. Max inhaled sharply, glancing away for a moment and then squared her shoulders. Logan tried not to wince. He wasn't sure that he wanted to hear this.

"He told me that he had been checking out the situation in Seattle," she offered. "The cops have discovered that it was a male that killed P.I. Vogelsang, not a woman, which lets me off the hook as far as suspects go."

"Shit," Logan breathed out, relieved that she wasn't in trouble with the law, but taken aback slightly that this was the trouble from Seattle. He had the sense that it wasn't the whole story though. "So... you can go back now?" he asked sadly, his mind whirling with how quickly he could be ready to go. He'd have to have a vehicle, some clothes packed would be good, and there was the issue of cash. Always needed cash.

"Not necessarily," Max spoke and it was like his brain cleared instantly. "I mean," she frowned, "they might still want to talk to me about any information that I have and I really don't want that. Not hugely impressed with Seattle PD. I think it might be smarter just to let the whole thing resolve before I ever head back that way, you know? And I..."

"You what?" he asked softly, holding his breath while he waited for her answer.

"I like it here," she said simply before she caught her lower lip between her teeth for a second. "I feel..." she swallowed heavily, the pulse in her neck picking up as the sound of her pounding heart reverberated in his ears. It matched his own, nearly perfectly. He moved slowly, like she was the wounded bird, terrified, needing gentle, sure handling so that it wouldn't hurt itself trying to escape. He lifted one hand to cup her cheek softly before sliding it into the tendrils of hair at her temple.

"I feel it too darlin',' he assured her huskily before his lips descended to hers.

He had been wanting this for so long and it more than lived up to his hopes and his expectations. Her lips were so soft and warm and he didn't waste time testing the waters. He plundered her lips as his arms automatically wrapped around her waist to bring her as close as possible. Her hands reached to cup his jawline, her back arching as her body molded to his. She met his enthusiasm with her own her tongue touching to his lips and his body reacted hotly. It felt like his blood was surging everywhere. That little voice that had warned him earlier, was now singing exultantly in his head, _'mine, mine, mine!_'.

It took several minutes before Logan recalled that they were in a freaking alley for crying out loud. Not that it mattered to him, but she most definitely deserved more than that. He pulled back slightly, pleased that her lips followed after his a little before she opened her eyes to look inquiringly up at him. Whatever expression his pleasure and satisfaction created on his face, in his eyes, it must have been extremely evident as the slow smile curved her lips upwards and he felt her fingertips stroking down his throat, "Yeah," he groaned softly, "that's about what I'm feelin'."

"Good to know I'm not alone there," she laughed lightly, though her voice was husky. "So…" she looked suddenly nervous and she fidgeted in the circle of his arms for a moment before tilting her hips slightly so that her hip was leaning into his. He had no intentions of releasing her just yet. He waited, his heart fluttering in his throat as he waited for her next words. Her eyelashes were quivering a moment before she lifted her eyes to meet his again. "Am I forgiven for not telling you who it was in my room."

"Well," Logan grunted immediately, "seeing's how you knew you weren't in danger from your brother, I can understand why you weren't so worried. But I didn't know that, which is why I was so…"

"Pissed off, freaked out… territorial?" she supplied for him with a small laugh.

"Yeah, all of that," he agreed. He gave her a long look and then shook his head slightly. "I don't know that I can rightly explain. Doesn't mean I might not try." He sighed, feeling the darkness that hovered in the back of his psyche trying to take over, just at the thought of someone dangerous entering her vicinity, aside from himself. Any not so little thing like that had the blackness threatening to take over.

"Whenever you want," she assured him, her fingernails scratching lightly, gently at the underside of his jaw, bringing all attention back to her, in the pleasure of that slight touch. Somehow, she had this power over him and he wondered how far it could go. "I'll listen and now that you know," she offered, "then there really aren't a lot of things about myself that I feel the need to hide."

"But there's still a few things," he reasoned and felt her slight tensing. He knew he was right and she nodded.

"But there are a lot of things I still don't know about you," she defended herself, sounding rational at least about it. "And I'm not talking about your missing memories. I know there's nothing you can do about that, but just where you are now. If that makes sense?"

"It does," Logan agreed with relief. "But we've got all the time in the world darlin'." He chuckled briefly and then ended on a soft sigh. "You know," he drawled and she shifted again, feeling more like she was trying to snuggle in closer and Logan noted that a chill had kicked up. In her dress, he should be getting her back inside, but having her squirming was just too delicious to deny. "I overheard you talking' with your brother about goin' back to Seattle, I was ready to grab a bag and follow after you."

"Oh?" she sounded surprised and the pleased smile returned. "Well, I can't say I'm entirely ready to yet. But maybe that's something we could… discuss. You know, if we ever need to get out of Westchester for a while?"

"That'd be fine by me," Logan agreed. "I'd be happy to have you show me your home, your friends, which I gotta say, I don't know what the hell is possessin' me."

She laughed again, though it was chased by a small shiver and Logan, keeping one arm around her waist, turned them so they could head back inside. "From what I've heard from other sources…" she began teasingly, "yeah, that doesn't sound like you at all."

"Well maybe," Logan teased right back as he reached for the back door, "I've just haven't found the right person recently, for me to do that with."

"And you think I could be?" Max asked, her tone light but the question serious as she stepped into the back hallway, as he followed immediately after.

"I'm not gonna let another second go by without trying to find out," he promised her.

TGoM~TGoM

"Do you think every thing's okay?" Scott asked lowly of his girlfriend. She was rubbing her fingertips over her temples. And she didn't look pleased. But that could be for any number of reasons, he knew. He was only partly reassured when Jean gave him a soft look.

"I really don't know," she made to try and smile, but it was marred by the sudden frowning grimace that wouldn't release her from it's grips. "I'm trying _not_ to listen in and it's making everything else louder." Scott nodded, even though he didn't quite understand how it was all working. But then, her body relaxed some and she sighed softly. "Here they come," she murmured and Scott glanced up. He pursed his lips as he saw Max first and Logan attached to her shoulder. But then, with two quick steps and a slight maneuver, Logan was leading her into the main room, taking her out onto the dance floor and turning to take her in his arms as Laura smiled widely and lifted a hand in their direction as the notes of her song swelled in crescendo. Max was laughing and then rested her head on Logan's chest and Scott heard Jean's happy sigh. He reached for her hand, now resting on the table. Squeezing her fingers, he leaned towards her.

"Shall we join them?" he whispered in her ear. She nodded, watching the pair for a moment before she directed her attention totally back to him.

"I'd love to join you," she announced and then they were rising from the table. Scott led the way to the dance floor and after just a pause, they stepped out, swirling in and among the few couples that couldn't deny the sway and power of the lyrics and music combined. As they circulated slowly around the dance floor, it brought them near enough to overhear their friend's conversation.

"… have no problem with instinct, when I understand where it's coming from," Max was saying.

"And I don't bother to think it through," Logan was arguing, but his voice was gentle, amused, as hers had been. "I just act."

"But I can figure things out retroactively, if I don't let myself fly off the handle about it," she giggled and Scott glanced down at Jean, who had a repressed smirk trying to break out on her face.

"Sounds like they're working things out," he muttered. Jean nodded.

"At least being open minded enough to try and…" she shrugged one shoulder. "Let's just let them be and concentrate on something much more interesting."

"And what would that be?" Scott teased. Her arms tightened around his shoulder and her hips swiveled in a light, teasing brush of her own and his arms squeezed her right back. "Oh that! Yes, much more interesting." He knew that the mood and their words had been caught, high probability of that when he heard Logan's booming laughter and was very pleased to finally, at last, getting to see a lighter side of Logan. He had really thought, having seen Logan's dark humor and gruffness, only ever, that he didn't have one. It was nice to know that he might be wrong.

TGoM~TGoM

"So I gotta ask," Logan began, ambling towards the window of her hotel room as Max put her purse away. The evening, once the hiccup of Zack's introduction to him had been overcome, went smoothly. They'd enjoyed another set by Jean and Scott's friend and then, as Jean was starting to feel overwhelmed, called it a night. The ride home had been quiet in the cab and while no one was feeling the excesses of drinking, it had made Jean and Scott tired. They had gone immediately into the elevator, leaving Max and Logan to follow, but as the elevator doors slid shut, Jean had thrown the couple a broad wink.

There was no sign of them in the hallway when Logan stepped out before Max, but their scents were heavy in the air and he had no concern for them. Scott and Jean were long used to being able to take care of themselves and did not need him for anything. He had seen Max to her door and before he had even said a word, she had invited him in for 'a while'. He had agreed happily. And now, was staring at the window that Zack had gone through.

"Ask what?" Max prompted. Logan half turned and tilted his head towards the window. "Oh, that," she frowned and then her mood turned and she chuckled. She moved towards him. "Zack, as I said does not have the best interpersonal skills. He's also extremely paranoid. So," she drawled, "he most likely came up through the hotel to case the danger and since I got back while he was waiting for me, he probably figured that you were all back too. He has this tendency to watch me for a while before he lets me know he's around."

Logan nodded. "He must be pretty good then, because I didn't think much about him back at the bar," he noted. "Or was that something more?" he asked, realizing now in hindsight that the whole innocent act of dropping her receipt and Zack picking it up was probably an exchange of information. He wanted to blame it on watching television and seeing spy shows, but this felt more intimate, more familiar to him.

"I saw Zack come in," she admitted. "It... startled me, because the last time I had seen him was in Seattle. And... he wasn't too pleased either. Something else was going on, which is why I voluntarily gave him the information of where I was staying, rather than make him chase me down."

"Okay," Logan sighed. "You think he was here for some other reason?"

"Ninety-nine percent sure," she nodded slowly, wrapping her arms around her waist and staring down at the carpet. She seemed contemplative more than apologetic. He understood. "He told me that he got the information from Cale as to where I went when I left Seattle. But he came to New York first, not Westchester. There had to be a reason for that. And none of his answers satisfied me and when I pressed, he kept changing the subject."

"So what d'ya think he's hiding?" Logan wondered, because the same suspicion would play in his mind, from the clues she had mentioned.

"What I think, because this has been a big bone of contention between us, is that another member of my family might be in the area," she admitted slowly, unable to meet his eyes as she glanced over his shoulder, out the window.

"You don't know?" he asked gently, stepping forward to rest one hand on the hand of hers that rested on her right hip. She shook her head and swallowed heavily.

"I haven't seen them since I was nine," she told him. "We were in a bad situation. Zack was the one that made us separate, into pairs. We were going to meet up once we got clear of the area, but I got separated from my sister Jondy. And then I was picked up by a nurse, who got me out of there. I found her again later," she smiled wistfully, recounting the time, "to thank her for that."

"Did you stay with her long?" he wondered. He had been in similar situations, using a person or family for a time, short or long to get his bearings before moving on. Max shook her head.

"No. She dropped me at her house and told me that she was going to go deal with the situation," Max sighed. "She didn't come back. I found out later that she was delayed by the road blocks and search they had on for us."

"Who was searching?" he wanted to know, his fingers stroking gently over hers until finally they loosened the grip on her hip and her arm swung down. He followed, lacing his fingers through hers and she gave them a solid squeeze as she smiled sadly at him.

"I'd rather not say at the moment," she offered quietly. When his eyes narrowed, she rushed on to say, "coming here, meeting Charles? I never imagined that there were mutants as powerful as he is. Mind readers," she smiled to soften what might have been seen as a criticism. "And I know you say that you have nothing to fear about being hurt, but what about the others? What they don't know, they can't reveal. Which is why I'm extremely... cautious about what I say." She chuckled darkly then. "I've already told you more than I've told anyone else ever."

"So you didn't tell this to Cale?" Logan grunted, feeling slightly jealous, because from what he understood, this guy had maybe too much information on her.

"He already knew," Max explained, tugging on his hand and turning to lead him back to the sofa. He let her sit and then molded his own body next to hers, angled towards her. "He picked up a few clues from seeing me and started adding things up. He already knew things he shouldn't and I have my suspicions about where he learned about it. When he got the chance, he confronted me." She frowned heavily and shrugged her shoulders helplessly. "I've always had my suspicions about that too. Hiding, holding back information until it can do the most damage is something that he seems to have gotten very good at. Even if he won't admit it"

"You're worried about his knowing more than he should?" Logan clarified and she nodded. "Well then, darlin', maybe it's a good thing you cleared out of there, especially since it sounds like it was startin' to bring you more trouble than it was worth."

"I guess," she admitted, though Logan could hear that she didn't precisely want these ideas to be true or valid in any way.

"Besides," he chuckled, trying to lighten the mood, "if you hadn't come this way, I'd have never had the pleasure..."

"Oh, that's very sweet," Max grinned up at him. "And very smooth Logan."

"I'm a smooth guy," he deadpanned, his face straight and she cracked up instantly. "Except for the moments that I'm rough," he continued. "Can't deny I've had a few of those." Max continued to giggle, her eyes sparkling before she finally calmed. Though the smile didn't fade.

"I guess I can't deny I've had my moments too," she admitted, threading her hand through her hair. It caught a moment and pulling her hand loose, she quickly reached up to let it all down, which Logan liked. Of course, having her hair up too gave her exposed neck a graceful line that drew his eye and often. "Do you mind if I get out of these things?" she asked and then quickly added, "into something definitely more comfortable."

"That's fine darlin'," he agreed, knowing full well that it was highly doubtful that she'd come out in something slinky and bedroom geared. "If you don't mind me slippin' out of my shoes."

"No, make yourself comfortable," she invited and then slipped into the bedroom, the door shutting behind her. Logan slipped off his boots and thoughtfully gathered them up to take to the door, so that she wouldn't trip over them. She didn't seem especially clumsy, but why chance it. On his return trip to the sofa, he unbuttoned his dress shirt about halfway down and pulled the ends from where they were tucked in. It gave him a slightly rumpled look, but he didn't particularly care. Clothes and other fabrics were meant to be rumpled, he decided. He reclaimed his seat and stretched his feet under the coffee table, crossing them at the ankle as he waited for Max to come back.

She emerged from the bedroom just minutes after he had sat, wearing the familiar sleep clothes that she had worn before, though these weren't as worn as some that he had seen her in before. The tank top and yoga pants did look comfortable, as did the matching slipper socks that she had thrown on. "Are you sure you don't want to change and come back?" she wondered.

"I'd love to," he responded immediately, "but I think if I do, I may end up here on this couch all night talkin' to you and you never did tell me if we were goin' to Coney Island tomorrow morning."

"Oh, that's right," she smiled. "Well, seeing how I never did go, or really get the chance to do things like that, yeah, I think I'd like to." She settled in again next to him, sitting sideways and pulling her feet up under her.

"Seriously?" Logan guffawed. "You never once in your life went to an amusement park?" She shook her head in the negative and he felt wary. She had said that it had been a bad experience that had caused her and her siblings to cut and run. Probably lived on the streets, or was in the system. Could explain where her street smarts and burglary act came from. Of course she wouldn't have had time to be a normal kid. "Well we'll fix that tomorrow."

"What about you?" she wondered. "I know you don't have all your memories, but still... it just doesn't seem like the kind of thing you'd be into."

"Going to, no, not really," he divulged. "Working for, a few times yeah. It was a good way to earn money and retain some anonymity while I tried to figure out what the hell caused me to lose those memories."

"Wow," she drawled, leaning her head on her hand once more, pulling the front strands of her hair up and back as she regarded him. "I can't imagine how difficult that would have been, not just for all the personal stuff, but not knowing what you'd have done to support yourself, if you had a house, a family..."

"I exhausted a lot of resources tryin' to find that out," he agreed. "Never did find anyone looking for me, so I guess bein' a lone wolf came naturally before I lost my memories."

"I guess," she sighed. "So did you manage to make some good memories after that?" she wondered with a teasing smile and Logan responded in kind.

"Some moments were better than others," he shrugged. "I don't think I'll ever stop wonderin' or looking, but sometimes there are things that are important enough to make me pause."

"Like Rogue," she hinted, still smiling, her nose crinkling, but she didn't seem upset about it.

"I felt bad for the kid and responsible, since I was giving her a ride after she ran away," he explained simply. "Didn't need it, but she tried to watch my back before she even really knew me."

"Because you were both mutants," Max nodded and then waved her free hand. "Don't have to answer that. None of my business."

"Don't mind," Logan shrugged. "I don't bother explaining myself when people push. Doesn't feel like you pushing. Just a natural curiosity."

"I'm like a cat that way," she offered and then a laugh burbled up out of her and Logan wondered why it was so hilarious, but his lips were twitching with amusement too.

"Well maybe I am too," he commented, shifting to turn towards her and bringing his inside leg up in the very little space that was between them. "You asked, so my turn. What was your favorite memory, growin' up?"

"Oh that's easy," she declared, her face clearing of the hesitation that his question brought. "Ben. He was another brother. And the stories he told? Oh wow, we used to all go to bed and then, after midnight, we'd all run down to Ben's bed and climb on and he'd tell us the scariest stories. His imagination was amazing."

"Scary stories, huh?" he chuckled. She nodded.

"It wasn't so much the stories, but just all sitting, huddling together, getting the willies from whatever he told us and then, if I was especially scared, he'd let me sleep with him. I think maybe that's what I like best, was having my big brother protecting me."

"Is that why Zack's attitude hurts so much?" he asked quietly, and she smirked at him.

"Hard to miss that, huh?" she retorted. "But if Ben wouldn't wake up, then Zack would let me climb in with him. Tinga did too, but she kicked a lot in her sleep."

"How many kids in your family?" Logan scoffed then. Add those to her sister Jondy that she had already mentioned.

"A lot," she sighed. "I wasn't technically the baby of the group, but I was the youngest girl. And I was definitely treated that way."

There was quiet for a moment and then Logan mused, "I always wondered if I had a brother or sister. Don't know why, but I always felt like I was an only child or maybe if I had any siblings, there was maybe just one. Brother or sister, not sure, but just one. Although I tend to think it was just me." She nodded. "Doesn't hurt so much now to wonder, because logically, odds are, if I had any family, they'd have passed away by now."

It didn't escape his notice, her sudden stillness and he wondered who she had lost. But he didn't want to press her. He couldn't do to her what others had done to him with their prying and nosiness. She had already shared so much about herself and her past, just by this gentle easiness that they were developing. "And like you said," he offered, "family is what you make it these days. People you can choose, rather than having to, by blood."

"That's true," she nodded. "Logan?"

"Yeah?"

"Can I kiss you now?"


	28. Chapter 28

Title: The Glory Of Manticore

Author: Restive Nature

Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to Dark Angel or to X-men. They belong respectively to Cameron/ Eglee and to Marvel Comics. No infringement is intended and this fiction is for private enjoyment only.

Rating: up to M

Chapter Rating: PG-15 (for language)

Genre: Crossover

Type: action/ Romance

Pairing: Max/ Logan

Summary: Max is once again on the run. But this time a safe haven awaits her in the form of Professor Xavier's School for Gifted Children.

Spoilers/ Time line: Post the first movie, for X-men. First season for DA, starting off from Episode "Blah Blah Woof Woof"

Feedback: Always welcome!

Distribution: Ask first please.

**The Glory Of Manticore**

**Chapter Twenty-eight**

_That's true," she nodded. "Logan?"_

"_Yeah?"_

"_Can I kiss you now?"_

The question hung in the air between them. It seemed as if time was stretching out, like a long slow pull of taffy. Max wondered how long before it would break. She wet her lower lip nervously, but the tension was immediately relieved as Logan's eyes darted to follow the motion of the tip of her tongue sweeping across the plump flesh. The darkening of his eyes and the slow grin assured her that the question wasn't all that unwelcome. And then finally, he spoke.

"Any time you want darlin'," he assured her in that slow, thickly accented drawl. She was surprised later, that she had been thinking about where that accent came from. Because the thought of thinking of that, disappeared from her mind the moment that she leaned forward and gently touched her lips to his. Acting like a gentleman that had learned some manners some where, Logan simply waited, letting her take the lead. Not that Max minded. As much as she hated the heat cycles that her genetic make up forced her into, she had at least learned to step up and take what she wanted some of the time.

It had also taught her how to catalog the signs of when a guy was into it or not. And Logan, was definitely into her. Or at least wanted to be. Her lips curved upwards as that thought flashed across her mind. She sighed softly with pleasure before pulling away. It was as good as it had been earlier outside the club. But this time, there was no paranoia that Zack might be spying on her. At least she knew that Logan had ways of sensing her bother as well and he was too relaxed in the moment for any threat to be closing in around them.

She drew back, blinking slowly as she studied the man before her. His face was a maze of mixed emotions. He looked, hungry, pleased, touched, almost... desperate and Max, above all, was pleased to see that she had instilled that in him. "What?" she asked softly, when his silence went on. He blinked once and then the shit eating grin was back.

"You don't know..." he began. Max waited as his shoulders tensed and flexed. With a dangerous smirk, Max winked at him.

"I'm not breakable, I can say no when I want to and really mean it, and now that I know how good your senses are," she added, "I'm sure as hell not gonna lie about how or what I might be... feeling."

"Fuck," he breathed out and then it was his hands, those large rough, callused fingered hands that were cradling her face once more, her hands catching his forearms and reveling in the strength that she found there. He drew her close, his lips sliding against hers until the pressure, not tentative but not pounding either had her lips parting enough that his tongue slipped in.

The taste of him was spicy, warm. Beyond the food, the appetizers and the taste of beer still on his breath, Max found that base scent and taste that she had wanted. Who Logan actually was and part of why he appealed so much. True, he didn't know that she had some senses of her own that told her a damn good bit of information, but she could take from these moments too. And what she wanted, was what her brothers and sister's couldn't give. What ordinaries couldn't seem to step up and provide.

She wanted to be cherished, but admired. Loved for who and what she was but supported for what she was, in what she did. Logan, she suspected, needed the same thing. And always, the only man that she had ever found it with, a sense that she could be his everything, that she could be the one that he would lay down his life for. She had never admitted it for real, but she had always wanted to be that girl. A real girl that deserved those things.

Max had no objections at all as Logan's hand slipped down to her shoulder and then around her back, pulling her closer. As adept as she was at taking care of herself, she liked the feeling of a warm, hard, larger male body beside her, over her, even under. It was comforting in a way she didn't bother to explain, even to herself. But still, even though he was directing her closer, she wanted more still and without breaking their kiss, lifted her leg to throw over his thighs. Logan seemed not to object as, with a groan and a heated break to move his mouth, his tongue tracing a line over the column of her throat, cupped the bottoms of her thighs and pulled her closer.

She felt like purring as she felt the long hard ridge of his dick, through their clothes, against her. Friggin' purring! Well damn it to hell, she was part kitty and they were decadent creatures, weren't they?

Figuring that she had stayed idle enough, aside from his hair and lips and tongue, she drew her hands down his chest, feeling the muscles rippling as she pressed lightly with her nails. Logan grunted, the sound full of pleasure and tilted his head back. His eyes were glittering as his fingers kneaded the flesh he was holding. But more than that they were thoughtful. She waited, wiggling slightly to find a comfort zone, honestly more just to align herself totally and properly on his lap. She was unsure if things were going to go all the way. That was something she didn't usually...

And by the gentle kiss and the tension in his fingers that he tried to flex loose, Logan was under the same dilemma. Max was the one to break away this time, rubbing her lips over the deceptively smooth, soft facial hair until she could whisper in his ear, "if you're not ready for the next big step, don't worry. I'm not sure either."

"Oh I want it darlin'," he sighed, leaning in to her administrations. "But you're right. It seems like it's too soon, but not soon enough." He barked a short laugh and then turned to look at her, smiling widely. "You know what I mean?"

"Yeah, I think I do," she nodded, grinning wildly. There were some uneases lingering, mostly baggage from the past and she was unsure how she or he would handle them. She kind of suspected... "Old ghosts?" she asked.

"A closet full," he grunted. "You?" he asked with a quirk of an eyebrow.

"Closet's not big enough. A web is more like it," she pouted. "Just when you think you've got one stand straightened out, another bisects and you wonder, where the hell did that one come from?"

"Or maybe a ball of yarn," he teased. "Just when you've worked out one knot, ten more show up."

"Oh that's a god one," she giggled and then sighed. "So we're agreed then? Nothing too heavy until..."

He pursed his lips and then blew out a breath. "Fuck if I know. This isn't how things have gone down in the past. Not that I-!" he broke off that sentence and eyed her just slightly wary, not of what he'd been about to say, but how she would respond to it.

"Same here," she admitted, understanding perfectly. She glanced away and then shyly, very much so for her, she told him, "usually meet a guy, he likes, I like, we like for a while and then he bolts."

"Can't imagine why," Logan nearly growled, looking for all the world as if he wanted to simultaneously kick their butts for being assholes to her and rip their heads off for 'liking' her.

"It's the baggage thing," she reminded him, shrugging one shoulder. "Isn't that how it goes down for you?"

He thought about it for just a few seconds, because she pretty much had it pegged. "Damn straight. I guess... maybe it was just because I hadn't found something worth sticking around for."

"That's what I told myself too," Max confessed. "I didn't believe it, really, until now."

"What changed?" he asked curiously. The smile returned to her face as she leaned down to touch her nose to his.

"I met you."

TgoM~TGoM

Logan stared at himself in the mirror that hung over the dresser in his own room. He couldn't help the smirk that he wore. He was feeling pretty good with himself. With his life, for the first time in a long while. It was true that the past was still holding him back. But at least this time it was at his decision, his behest. And it wasn't so much the past as it was that he didn't want something from it to come up and bite him in the ass. He wanted Max to know the truth before she went into this because the way he was feeling, he had the sense that losing her just might shatter him beyond his ability to pick himself up, brush off the dust and debris of a failed romance and go on. He'd done that, in several ways and forms over the past decade plus.

There was something about Max that was indispensable to his psyche. He didn't understand why or how, but removing her now from her life was like thinking of tearing his heart out. He didn't think that even with his healing mutation he'd just grow a new one of those in the few precious minutes that the rest of his body would need to survive. There, his smirk softened into a smile. He'd admitted it. He needed her like air and instead of being scared of that fact, he was scared of not telling her how important she was to him. Scared that he'd screw up somehow and send her running. Scared for a lot of reasons, but loving her? It was not one of them.

He stared at himself a moment longer before he wearily shook his head. How she could even begin to have feelings for him... curmudgeonly, old, dickwad to others that he was... But she seemed to like it. She was more mature than her cultural counterparts, he could tell. He suspected that something in her past had made her that way and she had given him a few clues to work with.

Swiping a hand over his beard, his fingers stilled as he recalled how she had threaded her fingertips through it, stroking at his cheek, almost unconscious of the fact. It had never hurt, pinched or pulled and several times she had rubbed her cheek against his. He had catalogued it all, every positive response from her, mind, word or body. The negatives were there as well, though much fewer. Like the way she had flinched ever so slightly when he had pressed, probably a little too hard, his thumb against the base of her spine. Her entire spine he knew, he had to treat lightly. It turned out to be too sensitive to be an aggressive erotic zone. The same went for her knees.

Now, her ticklish feet? That was a negative in a positive way. And a good sign that she was ready to cool down. He was too, but couldn't resist tickling at her feet that he had captured, just to hear her giggles and feel her body squirming against his in a less sexual way. It was playful, not all that familiar to him and delicious in it's normalcy.

Logan debated whether or not he should shower now or wait until after his run in the morning. After the preview they'd treated themselves to tonight, he was pretty sure his dreams were going to work him over but good. Possibly in several ways. He turned to glance at the turned down bed. Housekeeping had been in again and he took a deep whiff of the linens. The scent of the laundry, fresh to others but overwhelming for him, got in his nostrils and he fought the urge to sneeze. He buried his nose in the crook of his elbow and his eyebrows went up as the urge went away.

Her scent.

He turned his head slowly, smirking deeply as he tracked it back to it's strongest point, at his shoulder. He could very clearly recall how she had often rubbed her cheek or nose or even her chin against that very point. Did she even realize that she had been putting her scent on him? He doubted it. But it was there none the less. He glanced over at the bed again as an idea hit. Within seconds, he had stripped the bed of all but one sheet, since he really didn't want to be distracted by thoughts of what that mattress had seen in service to the hotel's patrons. The pillows went the same way as the cover and sheets and with a slight sense of satisfaction and anticipation, he stripped most of his evening clothes for his sweats. The t-shirt he had worn under the dress shirt, the one that Max had rubbed herself on... that he kept.

He laid himself out on the bed, on his stomach, pillowing his head on his crossed arms, nose turned to Max's scent that lingered and sighed happily, his eyes already drifting shut.

The sound of pounding, flesh on wood, his mind quickly informed him, was what woke him the next morning. His internal clock told him that it was early. Not too much so, but still enough that not many others would want to be up. And then it registered that it was not his door that was being knocked upon.

Logan blinked away the sleep and turned, cocking his head so that he could better hear what was going on next door. He reached out quickly with his senses, already up and out of the bed, tensed to wait.

"_Max?" _Scott was saying from the hallway. He was whispering, but Logan heard him clearly, as focused as he was. He heard Max's footsteps hurrying towards the main hallway of the hotel and then her door opening.

"_Scott? What's going on?"_

"_It's Jean," _Scott offered quickly. "_She's developed a raging migraine. Her usual medicine isn't working, but I found a place. I hate to ask, but can you sit with her while I'm gone?"_

"_Of course I can," _Max answered instantly and Logan relaxed slightly. He felt bad that Jean was hurting and worse that he'd never noticed until Scott had said, her elevated scents, displaying her dismay and the pheromones that clearly screamed pain. The scents were there, light in the air close to the door, found only because he'd serached for them. Of course, he had the excuse that he'd been asleep. He barely wondered if he should offer to stay with her as well, but dismissed the thought. Jean didn't need extra people crowding her right now. "_Let me grab a robe and I'll be right over."_

"_Thank you so much Max," _Scott gasped out in relief and Logan smiled sadly. Poor guy. He really did love Red. "_I'll let Jean know."_

"_Okay."_

The door closed and he heard the corresponding footsteps of each. Scott's taking him away and Max closer to the wall that they shared. He heard Max's sigh and some movement and then she had turned away, tracing her steps back and out of her hotel room. Logan frowned, feeling almost like a tether was between them, stretching out slightly as she moved steadily off to Scott and Jean's room across from hers. Scott had exited the room and headed off down the hallway as Max quietly greeted the telekine. It was harder to hear now that several doors were in the way, rather than just one wall.

Logan waited until Max seemed to find a place and settled in. He could hear a murmured conversation and decided not to pry. Women liked having their little secrets and private conversations. Plus, it was mostly, probably going to be assessing how bad off Jean was and anything they could do to help alleviate the pain. Since he had no suggestions, his body automatically did it for him, Logan had nothing to contribute. Other than to be vigilant over them until Scott was back and Max was where she belonged. He sank down to the floor, his back against the main door of his hotel room.

Satisfied that his senses would be hyper aware now, since Max wasn't as close as she had been before, Logan settled for a closed eyed, deep breathing relaxation that was neither sleep nor full waking. It didn't occur to him to be surprised that he could manage it at all, with someone he considered his in an even slightly vulnerable position.

TgoM~TGoM

Max slipped past Scott, who had gathered his coat, wallet and sets of keys, both room and car. "I'll be back as soon as I can," he whispered and she nodded. "She's in the bedroom, but check before you go in."

"Got it," Max whispered back and Scott hurried out the door. Max was moving hesitantly, since she wasn't sure how to approach Jean, or even if she could. From what they had talked about before, having people around her when she was having one of her episodes made things tougher and more painful for Jean.

"You can come in," Jean invited. Working from her power or just observation, Max wasn't sure. The grimace in her voice came through clearly. But Max wasn't going to make her wait and exert herself more. She wasn't a stranger to pain, could manage it, but neither did she like to prolong it. She wouldn't do that to someone else.

Jean was laying on her side, facing away from the door, slightly curled up in a fetal position, the heels of her hand pressing against her eyes. Max walked as quietly as she could, which, as a transgenic was pretty damn quiet. She halted at the foot of the bed, and gracefully sank down to her knees before settling back.

"You smell like Logan," Jean said without looking at her and now Max could add bemusement to Jean's tone of voice.

"I know," she said simply, quietly.

"You like it," Jean observed without observing. Max smiled. "Oh that's nice," Jean sighed happily. "Stay happy, please!" she begged and then Max realized that the telepathy portion of Jean's powers must have been rearing their head. Smiling, she concentrated on the elation that she had felt in Logan's arms earlier and when Jean chuckled, blushed just slightly.

"You're not getting the visuals here, are you?" she wondered, her voice still soft.

"A little," Jean admitted tiredly, pulling her hands away, though she didn't open her eyes. "It's kind of intermingling with everything that I'm getting from everyone else on this floor. And the next."

"Ouch," Max winced. She tilted her head slightly. "Did it help or would it if I..." she screwed her face up a little as she tried to work out what would help a psychic not be so psychic. "I mean, you probably tried the meditation, right?"

"Right away," Jean admitted. "It didn't help. Apparently about two hours ago, it was so bad that the bed was shaking, things in the room were floating. Scott was freaking out."

"I bet," Max nodded and then chewed at her inner cheek for a moment. "Does it help to touch... I mean like focus..." She winced and tried to hold back her sheepish laugh. "Sorry, I'm out of my depths here."

"Sometimes touch amplifies things," Jean explained, wincing again and her hands went back to her eyes. "Oh God," she whimpered. "Nightmare."

With nothing else left but to wait for Scott to return with medication hopefully strong enough to quell this, Max was moving up beside the bed and reached for one of Jean's hands. She didn't particularly want to share the things she had with Logan earlier, but thinking on it had prompted something. The moment that her fingers touched the back of Jean's wrist, she filled her mind with the memory Logan had asked for.

Images of Ben, entertaining her and her siblings with shadow puppets on the wall, the relief of Ben lifting his blanket up to allow her to crawl in and snuggle close to his side as they fell asleep warm and complete. The same from Zack, the way he'd stroke her hair. That prompted remembering Eva brushing her hair in the evening's when things weren't as rushed like they were in the morning. She had almost forgotten that and she replayed the sensation of it in her mind several times, committing it to the forefront of her memories. Then there was Tinga hugging her around the middle as she and Jondy had a tickle fight with her and she got trounced. Every good feeling, prompted by the love her family had given her, she replayed as many as she could in her mind. The pleasure of Zack handing her that beautiful red balloon and the feel of the latex under her finger. The slide of the ribbon through her hand as it tried to float up and away.

She had to fight not to let the sadness overwhelm her and when she felt it starting to creep in, she'd switch to a different memory.

After a little while, Jean perked up a little. "You grew up on a military base?" she asked curiously. Max simply smiled, not bothering to answer. Through the memories she was willingly giving Jean this time, it had to have been obvious. This time though, she played a few different things. The bracing scent of the air on a cold morning. The beauty of a tiny icicle formed off the point of a pine tree as winter set in. The yards and yards of unbroken snow drifts after a night's storm. The pleasure of being allowed to jump in and snow flying everywhere, so light and soft, but cold and tickly at the same time too. The pleased surprise of a fast and furious snow fight and then the warmth of a shower afterwards.

"Bobby'd love those ones," Jean murmured, a small smile on her face.

"Which one?" Scott asked softly and Max glanced up over her shoulder at him. She had heard him return and had been surprised that almost forty five minutes had passed since she had started this. Jean moved and Max loosened her grip and pulled back.

"Memory sharing," she answered before Jean could say anything. "Just was thinking 'bout the snow drifts at home and how fun it was to jump in one."

"Oh yeah," Scott nodded. "Bobby would like that. Jean? You seem a little better," he remarked cautiously.

"It's coming back," she winced. "But it's so much better than it was before." She carefully pushed herself upright and both Max and Scott could see the desperate battle that had raged in her mind, etched over her physical features. Scott carefully opened the paper bag he had brought, mindful of the rustling noise.

"This is what Dr. McTaggert recommended," he offered. "It's about the strongest thing we can get right now. It should knock you out for at least a few hours and she doesn't recommend you driving for a few more hours even after that." Jean nodded tiredly and accepted the bottle from him. She tried to focus on the bottle, but it was clear that it was too much for her. Scott moved away, presumably to get her some water with which to take the medicine. Jean settled the bottle on the nightstand and turned her face to Max.

"You really don't know how much that helped," she began and Max smiled gently and rubbed the woman's exposed shin.

"You don't sound like you want to tear your own head off and throw it into a vat of boiling oil," she offered contemplatively. Jean barked out a short laugh and then gingerly shook her head.

"No, just boiling water now, maybe with some scrubbing bubbles," she winced. "Some of these people really need therapy." It was Max's turn to smile, but Jean reached to push a wisp of hair back and behind Max's ear. "I can't thank you enough. Especially given what you showed me. Something so personal..."

"The love I have for my family is never something I would deny or try to hide from you guys," Max told her honestly. "The circumstance we were in? Whole different ball game. But I'm thinking that maybe one day, if I ever want to share?" she shrugged her shoulders.

"I would listen," Jean finished for her with a sad smile. "Thanks for staying. I know it made Scott feel better. But for now, I think I'd better take those and try and get some sleep. 'S too bad," she slurred slightly. "Coney Islands 's fun. You'll have to tell me... when you get home."

"Definitely," Max nodded and patted the redhead's knee. "Take care Jean." She rose and passed Scott on his way back into the bedroom.

"Can you hang on a sec?" he asked quickly and Max nodded. She watched as he delivered the water to Jean and opened up the bottle to shake out the required dose before he helped her drink everything down. He then tenderly tucked her back into bed and then made his way back to Max.

"You're still going to Coney Island?" he asked. Max shrugged.

"That's the plan," she began, "but if you need us...?"

Scott gave her a brief grin. "No, I was just thinking that if you had your luggage ready, you can stow it here until we check out. We'll take it with us, so you and Logan don't have to worry about that."

"Oh, thanks Scott," Max grinned. She hadn't even considered that yet. "Okay, should I just knock before, or we can even run it down to the car. Less for you to do," she offered.

"Either is fine," Scott nodded. "Just knock at the door when you're ready and I'll either take it or give you the keys."

"Excellent," she nodded. "Now, try and get some rest too and don't worry so much. It'll be easier on both of you."

"I know, I know," he sighed. "But I can't help it. She hurts and I hurt with her."

"So instead, show her the love and it'll hurt less," Max chuckled.

"Oh, I bet," Scott grinned along with her. "Thank you again Max. One of these days, you'll have to teach me your little tricks with her. They've been more effective than anything yet."

Max shrugged one shoulder again. "It's just been instinct, man. But whatever works, right?"

Scott nodded and saw her to the door, waiting in his own doorway until she was safely in her room and he heard the door bolt engage. And then he shut his own door.

Max slipped into her room and immediately shed the robe she had worn that was hotel provided. She paused for a moment, listening intently and then smiled. Logan wasn't the only one present with good hearing. She moved over to the wall that divided their room, placing one hand on the material that separated them.

"Jean's doing better Logan," she enunciated clearly and in a normal tone of voice. "Scott's back and she took some medicine. And now I'm going to try a get in a few zzz's. Let me know when you're ready to head out." She paused and then pulled her hand away from the wall. "Good night Logan."

Then, after just a seconds pause, she was wrinkling her nose to try and repress the pleased quiet squeal she wanted to make, as his voice reverberated softly through the wall, "good night darlin'."


End file.
